Searching Soft

If you are a dandelion,
I will whistle your skin until
my cheeks turn purple,
so each part of you
can know what flying feels like.

Continue reading “Searching Soft”

Walking with my father

by Alex Scott

There’s something about walking just before sunset,
those moments before the sky has made room for the moon,
when the sinking sun’s edges sharpen around it’s skin
until it looks domed enough to reach out and cup. Continue reading “Walking with my father”