Fractaled Mind
Nara turns herself into a butterfly… Last night, as the sun slid down to the horizon, reality and fantasy were still firmly encamped on opposite shores. Clinging to middle ground, I resisted choosing sides. Until the stars–guides to mathematicians and dreamers–filled in the darkening canvas with a Van Gogh painting. Logic went fuzzy. Purple bled black. Last night, as moon rode steeds of violet fluff, differences downsized. Ones and zeroes courted similes and metaphors. Code entwined with prose, an unholy entanglement shattered physical laws. Paradox collided with coastline, tossing ragged lines of poetry ashore. I gathered them like shells, stuffing pockets with syllables to be arranged tomorrow, when reason dawned.…
River Junkie
Where adjectives cling like thorned vinesalong weed-choked banksWhere adverbs form rock gardens, sinking prose in their hollowsWhere commas gather in the bends,claw-like strainers snaring the untrainedWhere stretches of boiling pontification,or fancy turns of phrase, swamp mindsWhere plump poetic pillows,or thoughtless critique, splinter fine craftWhere I fell in love with tones resonatingunderneath the surfaceWhere the play of light around recursive lines seduced meWhere the flow of words is my addiction,a bad-boy lover I can’t give up This post was written in response to this week’s Carry On Tuesday prompt and in response to dVerse Poets Open Mic Night. Click the links to see what others have written or to join the…