Bodies line the room
eyes on you. Looking,
waiting. The ghosts of
the past waiting for you.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Bodies line the room
eyes on you. Looking,
waiting. The ghosts of
the past waiting for you.