(no subject)

[lagilman]

some days, I really do wonder at my brain.

Trying to write a Very Important scene, full of political undercurrents and snarkiness and Wren trying to stay cool, and what do I get?

Poetry.

Go fig...




summer, 1984

Thus, bareback we traveled
Across gravel paths
And cold rushing streams
Up to our hocks in froth and churn
Mud swirling, until we’re clean.

Blackberries ripe from vine
And water crossed with cress
And made into lemonade;
You wanted gin.



passion

In a city I don’t know
The rain slicks on glass
And you hold my hand.

Comments

[alfreda89.livejournal.com]

Nice.

[lagilman]

I don't know, I'm sort of 'meh' about them. But the the words wanted to go into those shapes, not the much more needful Scene.

Silly, willful words.

[alfreda89.livejournal.com]

Sometimes you have to get things off your chest--or mind--even if you don't know where they belong yet.

This may not be finished, of course--and that's why it doesn't feel right to you. It's still becoming...