POEM: Unhinged Posted on November 1, 2019 by B Gourley a moon-made shadow sweeps, wind-borne tree branch tines race across the courtyard but trees, moons, and shadows do not race and, so, my mind & time must have become unhinged — “unhinged” being the operable word Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc. Click to print (Opens in new window) Print Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp MoreShare on TumblrTweet Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Like Loading... Related