“pocket any loose change..”
he exclaimed
like it may dull
remnant
shame,
jaw dropped- left
on desk,
“guess it needed rest”
liza said,
shrugging at
love
born of spells worn
in golden
robes..
don’t warm the
soul
like hand me
downs
heaped in mess
like musty
nest.
you appear in lonely
faces,
eyes mist like milk
and black tea
stains..
fate’s cup flipped
bottoms
up,
tongue tucked in
creases
of leonard cohen
lyrics,
star shaped flies swarm
moon starved
sky..
contracts like breath
at break of
dawn-
worn hands reaching blind
through space
to wipe your trace from
each lonely
face.
if you’re just
dust
like you
claim,
you’re fresh off
the moon-
sprinkled sparkling over
my eyelids
to remind me why i
open them.
was stung upon
tongue
while plucking
petals
for their pretty and
perfume
smothers
room.
a cluster of voices and rhymes in less inspired times.
a collection of revised poems written in the past two years following a cluster of challenging events is now available, free of
charge to anybody who wishes to read. included below are a .pdf version and link to ebook
available on kobo writing life
Sweat Wrings .pdf:
https://handsinthegarden.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/10/sweat-wrings-2.0-1.pdf
Sweat Wrings on Kobo Writing Life:
thank you
lost and spun
about
in
out-crowd you
study
takes up less space
than time’s
story-
sealed like eyelids
of room
that
devoured the
best of
you.
we sank through
layers
like
floors only seen from
beneath,
reaching for more
nothing
fills..
my fists like its
worth the
risk.
sprung from torpor
tonight
with
wild child eyes
blind
to
fingers point out
splinters
rather than smoothness of
the skin they’re
embedded
in.
a porch breeze whooshes
your wishes
to me
as though i’m the genie
still shy to
be seen
for all my failings in
holding storms
back,
but you squeeze
my fingers
and whisper
“relax”,
granting the wish
i’d yet to
fulfill
i can’t spare you all harm
though i wish
to still.
grown far too
frail
to steady my
gun,
dare we not
speak
of
daze we care
not wake
from.
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