Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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-oh, writing process- on Metaphor
in my apartment on a dance-the-poetry-within-you day I never know what is going to emerge that day, ever, always a surprise a rough draf...
Utterly, utterly brilliant. In this writing, there is the purity of observation. The purity of it. But it is not linear, oh no, far from it. Does this make sense?
ReplyDeleteIt is in that very perfection of observation and experience within that observation, that makes this composition striking.
Blessings~