I blame the currents for why I pull pause out of a bathtub of ink.
Yes most certainly,
fault can be found in the drops of breath beating on the wings of a butterfly, or the eye lashes of a homeless man,
look there the honey bee flying beneath a strand of web,
and see how the grass between my fingers
squeaks like a stick in a small child’s hand
tapping off diamonds in a chain link fence.
In the morning I lick honeycomb,
pray for discernment
see what sticks
and then
perhaps
I write…
one of my favourites – wonderful!
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🙂 thank you
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