Thursday, September 21, 2017

Spasm


Silence sucks me through this narrow tunnel and only
in my knitted spiral, soundness burrows behind flat walls,
I am pulled down or out, never to get all the way
through to where
it is all white
there. 




Painting By Jean-Guillaume Carlier (1638-1675) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Labels: , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Feather weather

Before I arose the tangerine sunrise squeezed its citrus air through my bedroom window dripping fresh pulpy nectar  of a new day onto the co...

  • Tres (trace)
    Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
  • The Creative Process by e.e. cummings 1 and 2 (plus 5)
                         1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
  • Olive to Fly
    The ship sailed West on Sunday The wind was too wild on Wednesday Our arrow plane rips the paper sky, severing space for itself, i...