I wear the universe backward. I imagine putting stars in my coffee and sugar in the sky. I imagine going fishing in clouds, and watching the sun hide behind lakes. I’m too busy dancing with my imagination to tip toe with reality for a second. ~ D. Antoinette Foy
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Creative Writing Saturday
English: Bird flying from the branch. In the back dark clouds. Magyar: Ágról repülő madárka. Fölötte beborult az ég. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
If I Could Fly Like A Bird
If I could fly like a bird
I would soar like an angel
Through the valley of death
Through the tunnel of the great white light
Sit cross legged on top of Everest
Migrate the seasons of the continents
If I could fly like a bird
The seven seas would become my own
Anywhere would become my home
If I could fly like a bird
I would ride a solar wind
Catch the tail of a comet
Explore the mystery of a black hole
Make infinity my home
If only I could fly
All my dreams
Would be dreams with feathers ~ Allan James Saywell
Creative Writing Saturday
The City Limits
When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold
itself but pours its abundance without selection into every
nook and cranny not overhung or hidden; when you considerthat birds’ bones make no awful noise against the light but
lie low in the light as in a high testimony; when you consider
the radiance, that it will look into the guiltiestswervings of the weaving heart and bear itself upon them,
not flinching into disguise or darkening; when you consider
the abundance of such resource as illuminates the glow-bluebodies and gold-skeined wings of flies swarming the dumped
guts of a natural slaughter or the coil of shit and in no
way winces from its storms of generosity; when you considerthat air or vacuum, snow or shale, squid or wolf, rose or lichen,
each is accepted into as much light as it will take, then
the heart moves roomier, the man stands and looks about, theleaf does not increase itself above the grass, and the dark
work of the deepest cells is of a tune with May bushes
and fear lit by the breadth of such calmly turns to praise. ~ A. R. Ammons
Creative Writing Saturday
a total stranger one black day
a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me–who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was-but now that fiend and i are such
immortal friends the other’s each ~Edward Estlin, e.e. cummings

