Sensorium Monday: Slowly, Slowly, the Stars

Taste: tart apple pie

Sound: roiling kettle

Smell: imps

Sight: staring into the warm void

Touch: a hot sticky gummy pumpkin pie

Extra: dreaming of writing a poem, rhyming, the line “And punching up the grime.” or some such; you sit on the couch and the stars come to you, slowly, slowly the stars;

"Nothing stops her search/for something. Hearts could break or mend/however badly as she reads, tiny/valves doing their best,/the blood flow. Yours. Mine." — Vermeer's Woman in Blue Reading a Letter on Loan in America, The Anti-Grief, Marianne Boruch

"but here we still are, sitting at a small/round table in the dark, drinking/darkness from our glasses,/growing dizzy with darkness,/past midnight now, the date turned over/" — White Flower, Red Flower, Mortal Trash Poems, Kim Addonizio

Grateful for: slow progress; poetry

Comments

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Shel Graves' Sensorium

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