RUBIES IN CRYSTAL Does language hover between my nerve endings and the world, or is language my skin itself? Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
A great, crisp, staccato sound created by this crunch of descriptive words! Creative!
As is your comment, dear Gemma! Thanks, dear...
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...
A great, crisp, staccato sound created by this crunch of descriptive words! Creative!
ReplyDeleteAs is your comment, dear Gemma! Thanks, dear...
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