No more than fringe, dangling in the aftermath, waiting to unravel, too numb to tighten bonds. Despondent. Will you take my hand, offer compassion, listen with me to the discordant silence, be my faith? (Written for Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt: fringe)
Put this corduroy cat out, give her only fish-eyed dirt – it is moister than green grass, less porcelain to devour. Bleed the soft morning air See eternity throb Listen, dance, surround joy Go! Do young night growl – delicious, ferocious, wet heart. (Playing around with Magnetic Poetry online. Â Want to play along? Â See what […]
Day, no more than a sliver, casts a subtle glow on the path.  A small bird tap-tapping on windowpane has awakened me, invited me out. I follow it now, as it flits from tree to bush along the way. We come to a stream, whose waters swirl in a nearby eddy then rush over the […]
Wow, lovely–“milk-pod dreams”, what a perfect phrase.
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Thanks. Milk pods make me feel wistful, although I can’t really remember why, lol.
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🙂
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