stars spark in the blackened deep: fingertips of the gods (carefully holding in bright hands a ravaged planet, burnt flowers drifting down from each. point. of. contact.
making art: metaphor, metamorphosis, metastasis, m e a n i n g c. Kate Gough
stark feathers rise in rows from soil soaked by rain a farmer's windbreak --- --- c. Kate Gough
smoking stacks weary my soul. — — c. Kate Gough
Big cigars sticking up out of the Earth. — Cold monuments to a more industrial time. — — c. Kate Gough
you could be heckler harpy or feind; i may lie derelict here but i draw the open sea to me. ~ Kate Gough, March 2015