we roamed aside the tow’ring hill nearby a lake, whereby we’d fill our canteens up and to their fill. drink in the chill; drink in the chill. we’d sit along the riverside and watch the water striders glide, entranced, intrigued and mystified. minds wand’ring wide; minds wand’ring wide.
Tag: River
Crying With the Wind
i sat by the window and it was cold that night but i let the air in anyway billowing past ruffling my blackout shade thudding with a rumbling rippling until at last settling once more on the chipping egg white of the pitted frame – it made me uncomfortable but i found comfort in that…
Where the Streams Meet
echoes in the timid chamber – titian avarice pulses in wait preying on fresh drops to fall from bleating gash chest wounds squirming artists lost in the shuffle – voiding the hole of its precious fluid purple as their prose leaching whatever granules of inspiration diluted or fermented over time – tigris euphrates venous arterial…
The Sagacity of the Stream
i watched across the water on a bank lined with dying trees rotten roots reaching out beyond the sinking silt – sun bleached dried and eagerly seeking to sate in desperation a thirst unquenched – gnarled fingers poke like porous bones body tilts towards tumbling tide – there’s an island in the center stream receding…
Piecework Prose 