Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

June 18, 2019, 09:07:56 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: Lint  (Read 121 times)
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« on: January 12, 2019, 05:46:18 PM »

The fluffy lint feels very soft and the action of scooping it out is pleasing. Something in the primal brain loves this cupping of the hand sticking it into the basket and feeling along the bottom for the flat coalesced fibres and then a slow scraping the nails carefully beneath the edge of the crumpling sheet and then I roll it to turn it into a little ball and I toss it next to the washer. And the washer like a spacecraft a technological marvel a revolution and a robot of merit. Filled with brute force and calculated tenderness if needed and more electronics than a 1995 computer the shaking at the end of the cycle is like the ritualistic tremors of the jungle people a chant raised arms painted faces and the earth shudders we have woken the dormant god and the night is black and the fire is fierce and illuminated all the faces black and sweaty and serious and zealous with tribal pride and their costumes are inventive and filled with animal parts and they eat and dance to drum music that makes the forest reverberate. Far away an accountant sits with green tea and works on my 2018 return. Her table is white and her face a mask of concentration a long beak protruding at the center and feathers and the mask is white with heavily carved and black painted eyebrows and she takes a sip of tea and looks out the window her neck muscles smoothly erecting her head with imperceptible
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