but i've got too much life fluttering around me all day that by the end of it i'm blasted with all this muck of words in swivels and swooshes. i can't make sense of it.
on top of life happening, my grandfather spent over 8 hours in intense surgery yesterday having cancer taken out of his cheek tissue. luckily they didn't have to remove any of the cheek bone.
and i go back to twin peaks in a few weeks, i'm jonesing for big fat ancient trees, blackberries and the most beautiful body of water the world ever let flow.
though i have one idea in my mind for a poem, as long as it gets is this...
a plump of rain fell on the robot's metal eyelid and he blinked
perhaps it'll grow
perhaps it'll stay just how it is
1 comment:
You have such a facility with words that even when you're writing "prose" it sounds highly rhythmic and poetic, a prelude to the last 3 lines...
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