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.. Listen, here is the thing we might whisper to your waiting ears if you let us; the picture we might paint for you of future endings and un -endings, the case we should argue for the brilliance of forbidden … Continue reading
… See? We have classified information for you about our own IQs, and the way the moon cases the joint every morning before she disappears, a fading portrait of her own curiosity. It’s been years since we’ve stopped living, stopped … Continue reading
She watches the sky swirl the same old songs. The stars are needle points, and the band plays on. .. For ink in thirds thursdays. Come play!
,,, The moon went to bed again this morning in her borrowed light cape, to escape the overshine of her brother sun. See the shim -mer of the sky’s invisibility cloak? Hear the triumphant cheer of swallow, sparrow, crow? These … Continue reading
.. A premeditated murder of smallish crows holds the morning in its ebony breath as they mutilate the sky. .. Also thanks to Grace, found a new fun place to poem – thursdays at ink in thirds. Come play!
… We’re keeping secrets again – under our hats, beneath our skin, between these dot-to-dot stars. The sky’s a sigh of boundless deep, a place to chalk our whispers and our want. A haunt of hope. .. twiglets #60 … Continue reading