Close your eyes and the stars spiral to their own music, the sky the softest black. Touch.
Tweets
2017
Peace.
Make happy.
Save something.
Or someone.
Be satisfied.
Do the thing there is no time for.
Thank with feeling.
New year always.
Three pieces about the shortest and longest days (2 by me, 1 by Karina Brink)
The shortest day beckons sunlight.
The darkest night is before the dawn.
The path ahead may be through the shadows
but even this will pass.
***
The longest day brings an abundance of light.
Banishes all darkness & shadows.
At night, short & sweet:
Only dreams
Of hope.
***
Dreams of colour, splintered light.
The darkness behind the mirror leaves us with the shortest night.
And hope slow burns.
Honoured to share a page with Karina Brink @KarinaMSzczurek
The tip of my finger
The tip of my finger touches the drop of sweat from your shoulder.
My mind is white heat.
The tip of my tongue
The tip of my tongue touches the drop of wine from your lip.
My mind is white noise.
Post-
Post-industrial. Post-truth.
Post-work.
Post-callous, post-blood-through-the-skin, post-anger-and-forgetfulness.
Post-loneliness.
Post-you.
The sun touches the horizon
The sun touches the horizon, soon to vanish.
The warm air still allows half-nakedness in the shade.
Dust and people settle for the evening.
When I was a boy I dreamt
When I was a boy I dreamt of protecting her. My hands would stop bullets, my coat the rain. Now though we have grown up and walk together.
Her memories are gone
Her memories are gone so on his every visit he makes new ones with her, knowing they will shine before they fade, fireworks through the fog.
Slow poison
There! A way through! Hope rushed through his veins. But no, he’d tried that before. The hope soured into a sickening slow poison.
simonsalento 