Xanadu
 

Thoughts in the brain are like roots attached to trees. No matter how long the bark

Reflections in ice, clouded by flurries as my coat shifts in the storm. The street is white, barren, a holiday dream. It’s left uncelebrated

My brain is silent when I need it to produce poetic lines to fulfill my final year of high school english class. Poetry pictured in my hea

Standing ready to release all my anguish As the rain beats upon my head, the whole Weight of the world — damning — If not to drive me to ins

The bright fiery daytime dwindles into a night of a cooling dark blue as if one has sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

Why should not folks be mad My dear, when women Wear the same painted face And men the same slant