Poetry Drafts

I purge true meaning from my mind,
seeking only truth in the empty page,
the white, the red, and the yellow
pages like yellow snow, red herrings
and pure innocence; stories
told to guide and lead
towards writings less truthful,
less sincere, less divine
than the scriptures quoted
in a Sunday school quire.
I purge true meaning from my mind
as my quill kiss my parchment.

I want to hug a tree
but none comes forth, none

small enough for small arms,

I bark up the right tree
but no one speaks:

no one plain of loss
of bark shredded 
of bark planed
off; 

I want to hug a tree; 
but none comes 
forth. 

I need so little
yet nothing is not enough,

the yellow fluttering wings 
of a sunny spring approaching, 

long grass on naked legs,
a scent of strawberry fields,

petals, freckles 
a touch of rose hip by my side,

so little and yet



so so so far-off