Dropped coins. Change. Cannot heal anything with their clinking, rustling in the bottom of pockets, forgotten drops from larger bills. Cast aside fractions, some pretend at value, but with copper souls easily bent. Spinning, dropped wild onto surfaces and making exact, noisy points. They’ll win no wars, profit only the low and count only when […]
Read MoreSmooth and rounded, as if gel molded into kind forms hugging small heat and light, they rest among motes of dust as confused days spin around them. Slid into line, they await invitation to welcome with glimmering dim, warmth spreading in a flicker of slipping air swirled about hurried business. Daylight’s kiss flirts for attention, […]
Read MoreUnfocused sun trapped in protective grids, flares notwithstanding; disregarding. Fears blast through convex stumbling, dropped words and failings inevitable. Illuminated in the order of things is a pinch of imperfection, the delight of entropy and an embrace held too long. Passionate clutches carry bodies higher than these trapped heavens, but blood inevitably slows, heat leaving […]
Read More#irispad #day2 #sept2 #growth #weeds #traffic #baneofmyexistance #aggravation #nature #bokeh #breaklights
Read MoreCracked, spent seed, delinquent potential fallen to decay, a future of roots dismissed by errant dispatch. Growth is promise. Everything begins with the blessings of blue sky and radiant hope, youth dissolving into distant wishes for rich soil, fertile grip, tenacious attraction and the destiny of transformation into something greater. Evolution is a winner’s game, […]
Read MoreA gang of candles, crowded by small diligent hands, dim, crowded luminance dancing across walls, shadows flirt with joining night. Day finds concentration’s curious folly; lids removed, wax scraped under tiny fingernails, brow furrowed and then a delicate wipe across denim as escape from a sticky hold. Dark crawls cold through cracked windows, the creep […]
Read MoreDiffuse signals bark for order, drawing lines to their colors and filtering progress carefully in measure, as if life were a genius recipe demanding exact quantities to impress flavor. Commands echo, trapped behind pressed eyelids swarming with thoughts of futures spun ahead, in sight but disallowed to dissolve the present. Sharpened by indifference, growth mocks […]
Read MoreFocus lost somewhere over forgotten years, use’s quota filled with only dust pressing keys. Set for observance, glimpses into an aging past, antiquated and the bokeh for a crisp present sprung from small footprints. Letters still the thread, new needles weave words, rounder edges and softer volumes with sirens’ calls cast the world over. Pulp […]
Read MoreThere’s no science or measure to this art, only a simple tool threading together words as woven sentences, the paragraph trapping warmth and burning hours in captive bliss. No hammer strike, rule of measure, sawed pieces or precision of note, but the discordant noise of a thousand bodiless voices clamoring for refuge in ink-stained pulp. […]
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