Sweet Habit: American Sentence – Day 36 of 108

american sentence, love, writing, Leave a comment

Reach to touch your hand,
brush of fingers across palm . . .
forgot
you are gone.

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

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