writing is a thing of action
tim peeler
I hear the sift buzz of a soul
beyond the visible world
in dark treetop[ wind,
I want to fly from this doghouse roof,
to key myself to that moan,
but you would say
I have overwritten
in my small awkward way,
and I would be sensitive enough
to listen
till I forgot the whisper
of sould sigh
in Blakean trees
below the blue hush of moon.
