Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

We possess the wings of a greater need, the gargoyle mounts riding the stiff breeze crossing the parapets in the storm. We wish to ride the stiff breeze of autumn past the stained glass of the Duomo, take the center, high above the gnomes dwarfed by graduated stones hinged against a sky blown free of clouds.

We are the scales of dead skin breaking between toes guiding each step along the cobbled path, past the bones of an ancient woman crowned with the Pontiff’s prayer, and guided by voices sotto voco asking for the breeze to separate our wings, and take flight elsewhere.

We are the skin that wraps the breast. In tears of joy strengthening the marrow-veins of sugar sweeten, desires, giving the wings of a greater need the lift into the spires.

There's plenty of "lift" in this series of soaring metaphors, Bohemian.

A swirl and a baroque, ascending scroll of flame.

Well done prose poem.


--Z

Your words lifted from Anchorage soar selflessly, without boundaries.

TY

The greater need seems to hve been devoured by the beast in igh places in these times of dying. Related to this darc piece of writing and I will be checking out more of your work. "C"