Glint or gleam

The light’s textures dancing

a sip of grey lit mem’ry

rain against dry fancy

——  ——

the rain let’s the glass of red dance in the light.  But it’s not a glass on a fall day.  It’s  how a night after the last drip rinks on the whispering everyday sundae cones are worth the waltz and or weary waddle back happily huffing sweetened cream.  Chocolate and etc.


By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

One reply on “Glint or gleam”

I dream of the short term dish I should e execute for our hostel house party. I think it’s carrot tart. I still reel from the usual meanest designed I swear to test whether I’ll care and like a jerk I do with a nice leak around the blades words… I even effing Hope joy even if a few of the blades sharp cut truly, meant joy… why hold a grudge? Yet I cuss… I cuss too knowing nothing is more true than the screen velvet hiding the scenes to come or why I hear the words when I’m not initiating so the sting is whatever mean bs. I do hope I’m worth the anguish

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