Page 78 - Spring Book 2020: Finding Peace in a Restless World
P. 78

The sun hangs above the horizon but barely.
The guitars’ thump- thumps signal mellow days, rancid days.
Words are blockaded.
Legs churn
on a brisk walk
the mind vacuous
the heart steady-as-she goes
On the tranquil Larkspur sea there’s not a tattoo in sight.
Sim Warkov

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