Writer in San Francisco, CA
Wandering skies pleasantly lift and
fluff clouds that whisp and float
like sails in the wind. Candy floss
thick and inking pink as the sun
licks the softness disappearing
into the horizon.
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-Alina
Sinking low, belly up
the body bloated crimson and gold
the sun rests on the waves of the ocean,
only to be swallowed up as the stars
begin to brighten and shine above
in the growing darkness.
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-Alina
Wandering voices
softly land on ears,
sinking deep until
penetrating the mind,
the dreams of children,
inspiring disturbing
fantasies of loss and death.
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-Alina
Endless nights scatter
dreams and sleeping
bodies across the valley
into landscapes of
old Gods and ghostly
voices, here they lay
forever.
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-Alina
The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
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-Alina