top of page
Alexis Myriah Koome

rambled wander


I am not the road. I am merely a traveller upon a path, though sometimes I feel that I am an unfurling expanse extending t'ward the horizon. I find myself sprawled upon the ground wherever I linger, wanting only the closeness to Earth to the thing that holds me up. Lusting after scarlet sunsets and saguaro silhouettes, second-hand paperbacks and an artist's cigarettes, losing words in stillness always wandering away, sometimes it's hard to go but it's always hard to stay. Each red and rolling mountain range tells of tension and jagged strength. Earth exposed in glorious shoulders and arced backs that fall and spill into vast valleys, hollowed meadows, tumbling tundra that gallops beneath great gusts, the urging exhales of air surging to and fro the sea. Rock in every form defies the bustling breeze that breathes with life from fire to water, across all crops of land. Fresh places remind me only that there is more to see, more history to know, stories told by Mother Nature of storms long, long ago. I am not the road, I am merely the literary view from one life's tentative trails. ~* A.


  • Grey Instagram Icon

Featured Poem

Reply - 

Sent! Thanks for reaching out

  • Grey Facebook Icon
  • Grey Twitter Icon
  • Grey Google+ Icon
bottom of page