sunset
Originally uploaded by prerona.
waif,
spirit,
ghoul,
ghost.
trapped
by thread of lead
to the body;
cant let go.
body yet
full of fire ants,
and acid dirt horrors shame
and memories. cant go back.
so i melt another sun
and hold it in my palm
and tip my cupped hand
to pour it down
and i strike another moon alight
and blow an underwater storm
and cover it up with calm rivulets,
neatly.
5 comments:
Your third stanza is just perfect--lovely writing. I enjoy reading your stuff, even if I don't always comment.
Dear enemy of the republic, thank you :)
my favourite were the last 2 paragraphs. does it ever happen to you that you have a few words, some imagery in your head and try to write something to fit that in ... thats what happened here with the last 2 stanzas - the seed. except the tree never quite lives up to the seed, or the seed to the flower :)
That's a good analogy for the struggling creative process. With me, it either is there or it isn't. And when it isn't, it's with a vengeance.
oooooooo
enemy of the republic, thats good ... no struggle :)
used to be like that for me. but i kind of consciously tried to kill that around the time i started the blog
inkblot, what boy?
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