Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Friday, January 01, 2010
Blessings on the New Year
In the enwrapping of the solitudes of the piano trumpet and cello, deep in the ending of the year, I found an ocean of light swirling beneath my feet. Washing away what had passed. Did I mourn as the music mourned? Then the waves lightened and we saw the new day arising like a red cauldron bringing the new year.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-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...
No comments:
Post a Comment