Monday, September 10, 2018

When the straight, spirals



can you feel the pull toward center?  Can you feel the pull of basil to taste a tomato?  Can you feel the pull of sunrise to find the apt word?  Can't you?

1 comment:

  1. terrible archways, all crowded in the town square, opening up if approached, and closing if looked back upon. those cobbled cloisters above the busy burial grounds, where commerce must carry on despite all else, passing time by passing time, awaiting dawn to call us forth. i'm doting on spirals, adoring them in fact. by the fragrant piazza, she looks at various tomatoes and decides the older ones are the best buy today, to roast and smash into something fabulous for the party honoring the opening of the theatre troupe. how lucky we are to have her, we all say in unison, for she can't hear anyway, long ago losing that sense to acquire others. no matter, that. she is lovely in the morning by the stands of fruits and such, a parasol her only friend today.

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