Cat Over Clock

Poetry Saves the World



Ink and Pen

And paper smelled of pain. The generations of scribbles read together as lost words that couldn't connect the rolling of empty train cars with the people that had to empty them. Who owns letting paper turn to ash? Perhaps us... Continue Reading →

Paper Cuts

I wrote a poem today. One that cast my shadow against the long grass, dried and brittle at the sun's request. On the breeze I caught a whiff of pain but when asked to describe it the words were too... Continue Reading →

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