Stefan Fiedorowicz

Stefan Fiedorowicz

the words
lie the breaths
aspirating thoughts
which when spoken
are no longer alive
but brittle hard
sharp pebbles

is truth but
in the breaths
separating sense
from concrete acts
A flicker of light
on a horizon
of darkness
at night

we steer
by our breaths
better than by hand
Whispered fore`words
dearer than old song
or fell promise
for a day’s


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to Breaths

  1. A gift ot have this to read today, Peter


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