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.. See, here’s the thing: Shape-shifter, soul -drifter, wayward wandering gypsy skydragon. White wisp. You’ve got a thousand other places (things) to be, and I can see them all through cloudy eyes. .. Prompted by Miz Q. Quickly. … Continue reading
(a leaky bit of moonlight) under a dark-haired driven threadbare quilted sky, driven bursts of clawing breath and the muted cry of unglazed small -boned crows dreaming murder, death – muffled blooms and fretful sleep. .. Cool visual … Continue reading
.. She trims the tresses of the masses, shears near ears and hears the stories in all their long (and short) glory. Shaves miles, time. Runs with scissors. .. Prompted by Miz Q.
.. she dreams in spiraled clouds, candy spun of nothing-dreams. she seems a wayward soul, a lost girl in dragon skin. she’s begin -ning to believe in something, anything, this thing that is her own dark soul. she knows the … Continue reading
…. This poem has multiple personalities, a couple of voices you might want to (fear) hear. It can converse in verse and tone and tongues, say one thing or no thing or some thing else entirely. It’s (banana) split with … Continue reading
.. See it at center. We walk around it in concentric circles, wonder-wandering. Hear the tock; we are the clock, arrows pointed out -ward as it stands, anti-time. Sublime. You sketch it all you want. I shall paint only with … Continue reading