dogtrax

Each step narrower than the last step up the stairs

the ancient decaying walls closing in with age and time

from atop the spire, which caught lightning and nearly burned to the ground,

the window opens wide to reveal the city below

for https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/08/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-church-spires/

This wood, follows the wood; follows the current; follows the stream

where every bend in the river seems distant, the ripples along the surface call us

to consider the unknown, the stories of where we came from and the stories of where we're going

for #clmooc https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/07/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-streams/

I always gawk when we walk by the window of instruments on Main and Third

They gleam of gold dust and silver keys, of taut strings and harmonies

I ignore the cars, the trucks, the people, the chatter

I focus only on the frozen scene, the one place where music matters

for #clmooc https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/06/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-corner-store/

In this subatomic space between molecule and atom — the monument remains supreme, if unseen

for https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/05/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-monuments/

The meadow always seems to make its own music — orchestral innovations of insect and wind

for https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/04/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-meadows/

Sun collector City inspector People detector Story connector

All these things, stick, when you while away your days, leaning back against brick

via #clmooc https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/03/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-brick/

I am untold arcs and valleys, rivers and streams of stories, the place where you begin becomes the place where I might pause, the end is only a temporary reprieve, and who is it, anyway, who maps my tale on paper with pencil and pen, such invisible ink, as if they will ever understand the reasons of the why and the when

sort of part of https://wiobyrne.com/shape-of-my-story/

Toss the coin:

the fountain's fingers grabs the gift and lets fate spin

the thought lingers on your lips, hope springs forth from childhood tales

of wonder that this, an object given, will become that, the wish granted;

always, in ways one can never expect, the straight line of time, curves

a #clmooc doodle prompt as poetry https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/02/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-fountains/

Handholds and crevasse marks; the scale of it nearly overwhelms the senses — you can't look up from below to understand the scale of this place — you need to gaze out from above

a #clmooc doodle prompt via https://dailyconnector.com/2019/10/01/clmooc-writeout-doodles-of-place-mountains/

Rain - becomes the puddle becomes the river, becomes the sea becomes the cloud becomes the rain- bow becomes the shadow that fills the space between you&me