Hide with me, inside the wide deciduous tree, beneath Willow leaves
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Hide with me, inside the wide deciduous tree, beneath Willow leaves
Last night's rainstorm drops from leaf to ground this morning - respite for flowers
for Algot
Bundle yourself up on this chilly summer night, with Autumn coming
Of links gone rogue — Wendy T.
Some things fall silent, quiet, as they splinter apart
Our maps no longer function as they once did,
some lines now barely navigable, from here to nowhere
We orientate ourselves to each other, then, lights in a constellation
— from a comment thread via https://dogtrax.edublogs.org/2024/09/05/archiving-the-netnarr-alchemy-lab/
Little brittle bones -
Autumn's stone fingers dissolving into dust:
Veins, dry from frigid nights; Stems, jagged as a knife; Skin, translucent in the light
Next year's leaves believe, in faith, through and through
how dirt caresses seeds as Ancients join the new
Come, hover, over the young girl's outstretched fingers; Dragonfly, linger
Cracked, so that inside there is a tiny treasure to savor; walnut
Art: a novel a painting a film an act of communication between audiences
You're the one saying it, from your unique life experience; a particular moment,
by living in interaction
We bring meaning into the world — don't let anyone tell you otherwise
blackout poem uses the last paragraph from “Why A.I. Isn’t Going to Make Art” by Ted Chiang in New Yorker magazine for #ds106
A doe, nibbling in a small field of flowers, at ease with the world
As white as the moon, the Orchid remains in bloom long after it should