Residual
tables turn when blindness turns to skill
verses and musings of j stoeckmann, all rights reserved.
tables turn when blindness turns to skill
Busy?
This word, now twice
It is a bother.
Has no manners.
Shaming grace to crawl those final bloody miles.
Watching from the other side, the dirty one
the discerning eyes of the beholder
you let her go as the sun slips away bleeding its vermillion gleam
draft a silky breeze, hitch your skirt and go
Roses paint the promenade
Companions of mine through the miles Heard me sing and watch me dance Pass the smoke, savor a cigar and
Tiny steps eager cross the floor
Wrap the night we sleep no more