Tuesday, October 5, 2021

The poem



Perched to pounce

on the sheet white page

Ink propels itself

infinite as adrenaline 

from fingertips

feeling for details

Not saying

what was a thought

before

Another word placed

Itself

to getting somewhere closer 

needing a 

tangible witness

to guide.


Painting by August Macke c. 1910, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Labels: , , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Doom and Bloom

And we wake up  to a new day, the world crumbling around us. We try to put the pieces together, nothing makes sense- or fits- and yet everyt...

  • 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...
  • An Other Song on the Jukebox Baby
    Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
  • Ex-isle
    This world  is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as  Push and pull Go. Busy hands and  bees-electricity, alter...