Misc. Scraps
I can’t place these writings
in space nor time:
downy flames
———
this lullaby sung in morning the butterfly cacceened without warning this falling up the sound of leaves returned to trees this falling cup from my hand the sound of glass returned to sand
the ocean tide stalling
the purple sky in midnight shadowless in daylight a canopy in the desert anemone in a nightshirt
a straight line in a bubble porcelain in he rubble a dream of lime to the colorblind a chance to take a second time
I think these were written
the morning after a Q–party,
maybe the first or second one....
———
dog of discovery
sniffing forever
the danger of beauty