Space as a lifeform resides above my head… if I could build a golden ladder in these skies murky red & crawl through the atmosphere ceiling... what would I find? Vermilion lips in the clutter of stars, giant eyes like water planets – O God is your skin the same anti-matter that holds galaxies? Do your breasts rise & fall like moon-turned tides? Do you define gravity as you exhale?
9 comments:
Your stream-of-consciousness writing is just SO COOL!!!
:)
Indigo
i like this sweet start
is it a party here at discharge or what?! :0
well, on a personal note i have to say yes, my breath falls and rises like mercury but bereft of the motion of wings that flutter or bark that peels like paint drying from an old picket fence then decaying white spilt and curved.
but then again i amjust plain weird.
welcome to discharge.
welcome ;)
that's quite a hello, Forrest
welcome!
cool. i like the sweaty part.
Thank you guys! I look forward to reading everything that comes through here... community is exactly what writers like us need, that's a big part of what the Avant-Garde anthology Jase mentioned is all about.
And yes, it definitely is a party here at discharge. Good job Jesus.
welcome!
terrific!
what a great image is left behind_
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