Alycia (or the Things Yet to be Written)

"It's twelve but not twelve
the breath between

speak and hear
pin and blood
reach and touch
God and answer

skin memory of rough sand on dirty feet
yet now in air
still to drown
widening of blue and horizon
spinning down

wait
less
time

i hold your breath
a poem boils below the skin

and you...
exhale

twelve
touch
poem
drown"
-kevin rolly

Swept

"Swept she said
Like a wind he asked?
No like mother's brooms
like leaves like
an empty room

He asked nothing more
but shut the window
children's laughter turning to ghosts
and sometime around dusk
winter came"

small little oilgraph on a small little canvas but best seen against the dark

The Illussive - II

The Illussive

Days Journey