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.

7 comments:

Bainwen Gilrana said...

I love this imagery.

Nelly said...

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

Michelle said...

SAD getting to you sis? You need a vacation!

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.