Magnificence/Lycra

For today's WordCrafters prompt:

They are the same: the ocean and this housedress.

Both spun and soaked and sunned

dark as a faded sky.

And underneath? Turquoise yoga pants today,

Patterned like a shallow sea,

Like this place

Years back when dinosaurs bellowed

From cycads near a sandy rim

state parks away.

I am the ghost of my sea-haunted

childhood library, now

spine-cracked,

Which I am, today, dusting.

The photo above is taken several moments before I noticed a palm-sized orb spider nearby and very nearly yelled and passed out in the waterlilies. Orb spiders don't really bother me, except when I see one unexpectedly huge and nearby and am out in the afternoon sun perhaps a little longer than I should have been.

Fortunately, I made it back to the car and home without further incident, to be greeted by Arthur bouncing up and poking his snout in my face to make sure that I hadn't snuck a second lunch while out. And now, back to drafting...which is going to look a good deal like reading on the couch but is the mental equivalent of turning the compost heap to make sure the soil is rich and full of potential. It was good to be out of doors and among writers this afternoon. :)

-- Chrissa

Comments

Once Upon a Future Past

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa

Need

Sharing with this week's The Sunday Muse #184 . Come celebrate Halloween with verse and The Muse. I don't think the lantern needed the day; I needed the night: Lit and close and dark and smelling of faraway fires. I needed the smoky flicker that darkened the late-season field I needed the thin linen dress someone else's jacket hides; I needed the nested shadow; not blue, clear sight. It's already a spooky weekend: one window wedged itself just open enough for the breeze to moan beneath, James heard a drone last night (according to him, circling and circling the neighborhood without lights), and our sometimes neighbors have started to set up their backyard for whatever festivities they're planning for Halloween weekend. So...tomorrow (Halloween) will be a good day to read through the books picked up at the local author Spooktacular hosted by a used bookstore not far from here and to say a few final prayers before NaNo begins. Also, celebrating another zine draft r...

On Bad Days

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186 . Sorry. Probably best to skip this one. On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty; I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore it obsesses to possess mass, to be something arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall deeper and deeper into time until they drag everything into the void and are empty, wrung out of needing to have an argument and then we look at each other, deep in the black fallen forever of our gaze. I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!...

A Weed on The Curb

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