The Pilgrimage, Book II: Part 33 / Phillip Neal Tippin

It is copy right?
To share on a leash
Every little thing I make up or confide,
Confident as long as I fill up the sheet
With stuff-things I wouldn’t think to hide.

Blood beads
A point to sheath
Not push
Remembering the point
Is not you
But something you grasp.

Waking up a ways away

All that cement we lay by
For a cold winter’s night

All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2020-2023 by Phillip Neal Tippin. All rights reserved.