Opening the book carefully, not wanting to break its still like new SPINE, Joanna settled in. “Once upon a time,” she read,. And so began the story of the good KNAVE who tricked a bad GNOME, thus saving the village from certain destruction. She giggled at how the hero was so clever and able to NUDGE the villain towards exile. All accomplished without so much as a single LUNGE and thrust of his trusty sword.

Georg’ann

Nothing is coming- all my words are light,
seeming to evoke fashion, a dance floor.
Yet the day has been one of gravitas.

The forefront holds a box of human ashes,
soft green algae dancing under clear river water,
2 eagles soaring above, sun reflects
friends stand close, arm in arm.
Calls come in, another realm – psychosis, client self destruction.

BELOW that which urges for attention
are the elusive threads
as I strive to weave with my words.
An image of pants with a wide FLARE,
a dance floor, someone with STYLE
(in clothing and their moves)
pulls off a swivel hip and pelvis tilt,
landing a low LUNGE and a jump up.

It’s there, but not compelling.
It doesn’t speak truth.
Tonight’s mood is not fanciful fiction,
or playful scene making with these random words.
Long form is the writing I crave,
an expanse without constraint,
to engage each exquisite detail of the day.

Heather