Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

June 18, 2019, 09:57:07 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Hanger  (Read 227 times)
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« on: January 07, 2019, 04:06:37 PM »

The curvy metal is an animal with unique personality. Inhabiting the closet and a horde lives there. The gnu of the closet. Suspended in midair and the grass gets dusty when it moves. The earth shudders. Perhaps itís the earth that moves first and the horde second. Perhaps the earth has an itch and itís always like an earthquake. One minute everything is calm and quiet. Next minute itís pandemonium and buildings come crashing down and roads disappear into the earth. Like a Mayan sacrifice. Never seen again. The blue sky gets obscured for a spell but its view is constant and calm. Watching without comment. Planning rain planning clouds organizing and filtering sunshine. The myriad rays that silently roast bake and split. Coax seeds into life. Melt ice and barely touch it in other cases. Brings the sea to a subtle boil. A canvas to paint on. The lapping sea. Solid beneath. Gelatinous and soaking everything it touches. The brine and seagulls. The crab scurries away as I chase it with my hands. But my chase is half hearted as Iím scared by its size. Itís as big as my hand and black and red. Armored and shiny in the totally clear water. Like a movie screen. Silver and projected images. Unreal itís so real. My hand deformed under water. Magnified at a slant. The hand as light. For a moment it seems detached and foreign. The crab is long gone and I sit
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