March 16, 2013

Textures


Textures
Seated in my plush chair,
I feel the scratchy presence of fear--
the bottomless, hollow feeling of not-enough.

The room fills with Mark's music:
melodic flute meets slimy shame.
My body softens; my rough mind
comes back to the present.

I feel the smoothness of the pen, 
the coarseness of the paper,
the fullness of the moment.

2 comments:

  1. Lovely to see your handwriting! That notebook looks so beautiful and I really like the way the light falls. The feeling you describe in your poetic text sounds so familiar: nothing is so soothing the soul than writing and listening to music.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for your kind words, cococita. i love it when you stop by my blog. it's like having a friend to tea.

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