poetry – Page 17 – Picking Up Roots

Copper Creek

copper creek
given color 
by its bed,

not reflecting
the immaculate blue
of the sky,

a silent rebellion

Memories

images echo
through the hallways
of memory,

nostalgia threatens
to overcome
the beautiful experience
of this moment;

memory is a teacher,
not a judge

Frauds

in this artificial town
you can be anything,
you can show the world
whatever you like,
even if you lack
the substance
to substantiate yourself;

this place is hungry
for whatever you'll pay
to keep up the charade