monk lips bleeding green
trees burnt to ash
of black shadow
No, you will not
suffer – my yellow
matchbox hands will
Return to This Week’s Flash
Filed under Walter Bjorkman
Strong and purposeful poem, lyrical and beautiful. I am a big fan of your poems, Walt
Beautiful as always… It reminds me of Southern California after the brush fires burn themselves out. Thank you for sharing.
Not sure yet what it means for me, but the simplicity, the intricate color and shapes and mystery intrigue me.
Haunting, deep, mysterious. Who is you? And then I wonder who is my? And then I guess I don’t want to know.
Thanks folks, as short as this is, it took more work than most of my flashes, the emotions roiled up were hard to get a handle on.
very potent writing. a can of kerosene ready to combust.
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