Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

how many angels dance on the head of a pin?
a thimble would hold a million. his fingers
make my head spin, the touch is a light thorn
making the blood sing. and the beat of a heart
can thunder loudly, music drumming into
places previously left undiscovered.

.

I felt the moon creep up
and attempted to hide behind
a full blown jacaranda’s
blossoms falling to pave
a road filled with desolation.
The moon softens the streets,
softens the mood, creates
a mystery, as if we really
needed one.

.

if the wind held answers what would be asking the questions? i hang wash to dry under a cerulean blue sky stretching arms up to catch the wind, the smell of chlorine strong, sheets snapping, and I remember my mother performing the same duty. funny, to have to come to a 3rd world country to make conn...

Healing means whole [sums] adding up to regular prime {‘} numbers sealed with kisses, blisters [packed] into parched mouths, dissed- organization reigns into stolen slays {sleighs} ‘and’ somewhere there is a child crying with no one to hold it. but learning to let go means healing, means whole— some...

A woman of wisdom. Getting older
has to have some benefits
Like brilliant streams of consciousness
[like this]
that gravitate from your mind
to our gaze.

Peace,

Sierra

the chaos of your daze.
quiet moments to contemplate
your navel, become rare.

.

>the flute works because it is hollow<

Stunning imagery, LR.
A song to the child/man.

Peace,

Sierra

I kept missing His face next to mine
on my way to church.

i kept asking for help and never heard a thing.
I offered to help and he's never stopped
talking.

.

a late date is better
than a missed date.
potatoes do not plump
when cooked, but mashed
to a splendiferous pulp
help fill in wholes drained
from a day spent manning
the gravy train.

a quick break to our fast.

.

abcrystcats, thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

Knip (hope I got the name right).

I'm married to a Wyldestorms, so I know about hurricanes!

Peace,

Sierra

Thank you both for reading!

I'm glad you liked it, Cecil.

Peace,

Sierra

Sails Blow a mournful note through the trumpet. Break the lines and let the boat go. There is more freedom in the future. Molded past images from a puddle of misspent guilt and needing this pain is like living with a dark angel just seen out of the corner of the eye. ready to strike when hot-- poker...

Whooosh! Had me spinning -- some parts sad, some made me laugh.

Peace,

Sierra