Okay, for a year, I’ll leave out the following so that I can begin anew, think fresh thoughts, create something special.
Okay, just one poem. One poem without the following:
pigeons roosting on the roof
mountains in the distance
moons (crescent, full, dinner-plat, slivers, simple, blue, harvest, beautiful et al)
long and slow
any named plant from the Pacific Northwest
foods I’ve chopped, sliced or cooked