Laz Dixon Poems

A bitter but calm wind stretches its reach among the gentle hills

Catching the long grass that wishes it could leave its past behind and drift along with the cool breeze
The wind glides past the ancient stones, now fallen, scattered and overgrown
...

In a brief second in time
And a flash of light upon glass
The window becomes a mirror
The perceiving becomes perceived
...

New and original
Can they even exist?
Everything is inspired,
Based off something else
...