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.. We’ve known all along that we are building something from nothing, that each click together is all part of the design. We know dropped bricks mean sore soles, and that the instructions are long gone. We know the … Continue reading
She’s bruised, but I can’t tell if she’s abused …………….or just camera shy. .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.
… We spin in gold and frank, incensed words; mirth. Myth. Ribbons of phrase, ink-stained paper hearts, the wrappings and trappings of pain and passion. We fashion our -selves in tissue-thin jars, the scars that come in silver moon slivers … Continue reading
.. she’s flannel-soft today, the muddled braised white of a favorite tee turned ……………inside ……….out. .. twiglet#26. ..
.. We breathe the cold, snapped against silence; the blue seeps into our bones. We raise our limbs to a cracked-open sky, the clouds like overlapping stones. .. wordled.
play magnetic poetry here.
.. I won’t try to fix you , if you’ll just let me fly. .. prompted by poetic asides.