poetry diary

I am a bridge –
walk on me.

A stone on a mountain,
lichen dream-fed, famished.
Moss-held till set rolling –
a landslide (you started)
then dust.

I am a bridge –
see from me.

Mason-focused dust, new
shapes without meaning; fresh
weight and perspectives, I’m
lost in the city now –
unfed.

I am a bridge –
flow through me.

Sack-jarred, axe-scarred, cart-tossed –
Tumbled, cracked and thrown, caught
then cemented and held;
an arch curves through me like
music.

I am a bridge –
cross me, now.

Like a woman –
her kisses –
sourced in undulating hills;
soft, shifting valleys;
moist murmurs, words –
waters beating rhythms over rocks;
weaving into waves –
lost to a vanishing sea.