Week 137.png

A fusion of nicotine and parapraxis
my gelatinous roots give way beneath me.
The quarter moon stirs behind a vestment of clouds,
though meager she still sparks.

My mealy mouth, squirrels away smiles and lies.
A scapegrace queasy with confrontation.
The day enacts what the night has cause to hide.

We are jest, we are shadow.
When the abyss rises to meet me
then I will be lost, then I will be among many.

A bit of rapid fire poetry. 2 minutes so maybe it doesn’t make sense lol


15 thoughts on “Wordle #137 “January 9th, 2016”

  1. I particularly like the second stanza – as a whole, it really resonates with me – like all the phrasing etc. and the line about the moon and “vestment” clouds – now that is fascinating and powerful. 🙂

    sometimes a brief free write or rapid fire – neat term – works just as well or better than something that has been “worked” and worked.

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