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For Take A Word (floral). I'm late with this, but better late . . . These flowers are all from Christine's Art.
#collage #digitalcollage #digitalart
Too tired to make anything. No pictures, no poems. But as always, this is temporary. I expect this to be a brief temporary.
For The Three Muses (regal, royal)
& because it's been a few days, a small poem:
how sweet
the kiss
that never was
#collage #digitalcollage #digitalart #poem
What is her name? Not
the name she is called by,
but the name that calls her.
She can almost hear it
just at the edge of sound,
a whisper, a hum.
It’s a name that lives
in that between space,
the fog between dream
and waking, between
words and silence,
between water and steam
or water and ice.
It’s a name that hisses
and crackles, a name
without syllables, vowels,
or consonants. If she
could only hear it, if
she could only say it, she
would know who she is.
#poem-a-day #poem
I can still picture you
leaning back in your chair
talking to strangers
at the outdoor cafe
pulling their stories
from them, slipping past
their guard, slipping past
mine. Stomping ahead
down the street, angry
about something
you will not explain.
So young then, both
of us, so unknowing.
Each of us sunk in our
own skins, coveting
and refusing the other,
angry with each other
for reasons we did not
understand. Angry
in general, with politics,
with work, with injustice,
and we, so righteous
in our own mistakes
and misunderstandings,
so clear in our own
judgements. Your voice
a rumble undermining
my nights, shaking
my days. Vehemence,
we were both so
vehement. What are we
now? Just old. Only
tired. Hanging on.
It's hard to write a poem a day, even in the best of times. And this is not the best of times.
#poem-a-day #poem
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