Being bereft of aberration is abhorrent,
In itself.
I am the whence of a will.
Wilt do.
Wilted
Camællias suddenly come into ripe blossom
Bloom.
I danced in blue light at least an hour that night.
I stumbled between songs.
I slip but don’t fall.
Felled the tree before the hanged.
And a fool found herself upside down,
A head full of clouds and reservoirs of water.
Camel-ist.
Hiding eyes
Laughter.
In the dark, a cardinal dances on his branch.
Like a Stellar’s Jay.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: writtencasey
I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer.
With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills.
I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here.
Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.
View all posts by writtencasey
WrittenCasey 