through my fingers they speak
flutter swiftly laughing
translucent and sometimes wicked dark
nonsense to me or you
yet in my dreams
the tomes of history explored
poured out the morning after
through my crooked fingers scrawled
enochian LA
words less spoken
Gen X’er chronicles the art form of living in the Angelino metropolitan environment through poetry, creative writing, art, photography, and culture.
words less spoken 