William Oxer



drums in the inner spaces

outer lives defined

oily to the texture

soft in the mind.


We are bearers of light

into wilderness we bring it forth

shines open cracks of turbulence

glue them whole.

Miss the days of unwound

sows the wound of childhood temperament


so precious

in the vault of memory.


Anna Rozwadowska 2018

Top Writer in Poetry. I am a writer, photographer, psychic, medium, and spiritual guide.I have an M.A. in Environmental Sociology.

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