Dither in directions, in those deeds — of drools.
Shattered shamans bring the bones,
singing likes of fed in mine (why the wind in this?)
A winded wounding dream, think wailing pillows.
The dreams of dreaming sparrow seams
— unrequited willow sends.
Bestowed is bitter, bitter brine;
harrow of this seeds, synaptic sense;
Stance with difference: It’s brown and bitter ….
Yet, yet, yet sow dearth of toes seen that.
I’m sure my marrow doesn’t mind.
Today I’m hosting dVerse MTB, the challenge today is to write true avant-garde in the spirit of Gertrude Stein (tender buttons) and others. Focus purely on sound by associate to simple objects and do your own verbal cubism. Come join us at the pub. We open the doors at 3 PM EST.
October 9, 2014