Monday, January 23, 2006

Excerpt

Inky waves roll me like laundry,
Like rocks in a tumbler -
Grinding me against ashen sands.
Eroding under a bruised sky,
My eyes don't see the sun -
I grieve alone beneath my clouds.

10 comments:

Mike said...

I'm not sure what all that means...I mean, it's only 8:44 a.m. here.

Bainwen Gilrana said...

I love this imagery.

Nelly said...

Sounds pretty bleak. I hope this isn't how you are feeling.

naive-no-more said...

SAD getting to you sis? You need a vacation!

Pete Mitchell said...

That's actually really powerful. Hope all is well. I'll do my best to send happy thoughts your way.

FTS said...

Wow...

Lori said...

Talk to me, clew...
You know my address...spill!!!

And I'm with naive...I think we could all use a vacation.

xoxoxoxo

Rebecca said...

Hmmmm. Creative moment, or current emotion? A little of both?

Have a BLT and feel better - besides the Steelers are going to the Superbowl!!! ;)

martie said...

I'm worrying about you again! Get in touch! Hugs XOXOXO

Bougie Black Boy said...

Very Emily Dickinson-esque. Hvae you read her stuff? I hope so. If not, you must. Beautifully obscure.
My favorite part is how you don't say "the clouds" BUT rather "MY clouds". I love how the narrator takes ownership, yet doesn't not claim any part of the sun.