You know where it started
Fiction engraving
The face of the moon
Small point
Her hands
------Against the height of it
The velocity of tadpoles
Tails down with purpose
Through the turnstile
Every one a mist-like scream
The blood grew feathers
He memorized the lost constellations
Hook, water, shaft, gargoyle
The orbital nature of weathervanes
5 comments:
"The blood grew feathers..." I like the line a lot.
Enjoyed this piece especially...
The velocity of tadpoles
Tails down with purpose"
Great read!
Smiles!
R Jay
Thanks!
You have a knack for putting phrases together, you really do... I like this, but I think it dissolves into too many single lines toward the end. I played around with it a little--see if any of these changes feel right to you:
You know where it started
Fiction engraving
The face of the moon
Her hands
------Against the height of it
The velocity of tadpoles
Tails down with purpose
Through the turnstile
Each one a mist-like scream
The blood grew feathers
Lost constellations he memorized:
Hook, water, shaft, gargoyle
The orbital nature of weathervanes
We never did get around to planning a spring workshop, did we? Hmm...
Your edit is perfect, Mark. Just what it needed.
I feel really bad about the lack of workshops. I've been a hermit lately. I'm reading someplace Friday night for that Arts Everywhere event. I suppose I should find out where. I know it's a 6 p.m., though, with some other IUSB folks. Come out and we'll plan something.
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