Sleepless is his state from birth, does he fear debacle? Lies, all lies, are what he hears, the stories always clash. Alarm dogs know he needs a fix, his life is caffeinated. So, he plugs his ears with cotton, silence is the honest truth. Snowstorms look like cotton balls, but he does not reprove. He prefers to dress in fleece than strip to skin for summer.
The words I chose are:
- Snowstorms (yes, we’re having one now)-Summer
Nolcha’s poems have been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Alien Buddha Zine, Medusa’s Kitchen, and others. Her three chapbooks are available on Amazon. Nominee for 2023 Best of The Net. Editor for Kiss My Poetry and for Open Arts Forum. Accidental interviewer/reviewer. Faker of fake news.