Oct 18 2005
Grains
Grains
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
This old woman’s body,
With bones and hair
Thinning, with
Stones forming, and
Mind going, still
Pulses with an
Undeniable energy.
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Oct 18 2005
Grains
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
This old woman’s body,
With bones and hair
Thinning, with
Stones forming, and
Mind going, still
Pulses with an
Undeniable energy.
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Oct 18 2005
Girl On A Swing
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
Dark eyes shine,
reflecting trees and skies
as they fly by.
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Oct 18 2005

Giraffe Dingus
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
Poor lil fellow,
Small by Giraffe standards.
Stuck here behind walls,
Gates and fences,
On display to passers by
Like me.
We’re brothers,
In a way:
Both statistically small, yet
I’d take your
Below-average
Giraffe dingus
Any day.
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Oct 18 2005
Fruit Salad
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
It was thrilling to see her excitement with each new discovery
Each Farm Boy spotlight illuminated ripe treasures
Generating a frenzied flurry of purchases
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Oct 18 2005
Fragments
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
Drawn from the chest, the breath extracted,
Light throws the head back, hot breath exhaled.
It knows the insides, the secret places,
It burns away the remnants of complacency,
Dissolves the I, until the powdered ash is laid,
Like a shroud, over everything.
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Oct 18 2005
Evidence of Design
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
This watch is broken,
cracked and crushed by some unknown force,
washed up on some forgotten shore.
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Oct 18 2005
Elephant Leg
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
There’s a part of you
I cannot see or touch.
In the dark, alone, I know
every curve of your body.
I could sculpt you from memory.
Each detail vivid in
my mind’s eye.
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Oct 18 2005
Easy
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
These words were pre-ordained,
Written at the beginning of time
Without my consent or fore-knowledge,
Carved into the very fabric of time and space
For me.
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Oct 18 2005
Dead Blooms & Dog Poison
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
He bought these dead blooms and
Dog poison for his beloved.
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Oct 18 2005
Clearly
by Sander Roscoe Wolff ©
I don’t know what to say anymore.
The similes and metaphors have all left
And, in their place, this feeling.
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