Categories
Poems

I, Future


Sometimes the grass is

purple, sprouting from star baked

dirt, light years away.

Categories
Art Poems

Space Travels


Hours stealing years.

Pulled over for light speeding.

Mom…are we there yet?

Categories
Art

Motorbike from the Future

Do. You. See. It?

I pass this tag everyday. I’m surprised it hasn’t been wiped away yet.

It looks like a motorbike from the future jumping off the past.

There’s no seat. You magnetically hover above the frame.

There’s no handlebars. You steer by telepathy.

Crazy thought?

Yes.

But this is where we’re headed.