Colin Pickett Poems

I erased this poem
several times before,
unable to describe
artistically the intense
...

What will wake me
from my slumber

is keeping me
...

Remembrance is a desert;
a harsh and lonely land.
Where precious thoughts are buried,
and dreams are lost in sand.
...

Her cursive made
me sick-
like overinflated
balloons they choked
...

Between the trees the
starshine night grows
to fill the air.
Between here and West,
...

It was easier than I had thought it would be,
no hesitence or penitent sorrow.
I came, I saw, I conquered.
Easy as cherry pie.
...

The orange sky
of night, smiled
on the still
clouds of breath
...

Fair ye ageless winds
blow on this fateful morn.
And most exalted heaven,
my efforts do not scorn.
...

Sitting on the truck,
a bare coyote carcass,
thin and lean like a grayhound.
...

Her taxi had left.
Shw was late for her meeting.
The morning flight was delayed.
...