Arranging a day as a game Moving pieces – it's never the same with a roll of the die the time will fly and in the morning, we'll start up again
for #ds106 and #mastoprompt
Software singers and hardware heads
thread code and wires to discover
the sweet spot of something
where nothing once was,
and where nothing once was,
comes something new, instead
for #mastoprompt
Trace your fingers along my skin, to make a map, and then begin to find the song we might sing
for #mastoprompt
A small seed settled in soil brings only a vague promise, requiring patience, that might yet deliver a moment of beauty, in time
for #mastoprompt
Glissando, why don't you, trombone slide your voice into my note as we met
Each word, blended together, as if we spoke this poem in duet
for #mastoprompt
Poems became the ash of what was left in us when the world fell apart
Spent decades inside this screen and paper, dusty fingers trying to ink together memory, once nearly lost, forever; a heart
knows only what no longer works when parts and pieces collapse, but poets look to plumb the numb, for hurt is the place where a kindled line of wonder and healing might eventually start
for #verselove and #mastoprompt
A river's edge, reflected
a tiny pebble, collected
a smooth surface, inspected
a summer memory, detected
for #mastoprompt
Spin - fidget – spin - my attention is off the charts again and I need distraction in my fingers so I can find a place for my ideas to begin
for #mastoprompt