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As my sticky post suggests, I am considering shutting down and turning off the lights on the site. It seems like a good idea, although I can’t rightly articulate my reasons aside from saying that my mental status seems to be wonky (to put it mildly). That, however, does not mean that I have ceased to write. I have give myself a deadline of deciding by Monday as to my final intent: Do I overhaul how I approach this site so that I find it less angsty for me to continue to write here? Or, do I shut ‘er down and find a new way to do my writing?

In the meantime, I am limiting myself to a post a day, with one or more pieces consolidated in the single post. This is today’s meager offering with all apologies:

©2021 Michael Raven

what illusions?
that dagger doubt
fear-honed, carves
the clockwork heart
ticktock stutter
springs taut

gentle, watchmaker...
this chipped crystal face
is brittle with age
gently, now, gently

i think i saw you
at the end of the
library stacks
with your
wink and your
before we fell
over the edge of
the world

or dare?

i dream so hard
it breaks things
at the end of my

And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.

Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones (G.R.R. Martin)

“His head gone done broke,” Amos said as the townsfolk gathered ’round in the center of the town to stare at Hal. Hal, for his part, seemed to confirm the diagnosis: he sat there grinning foolishly at nothing much at all. His rear end was firmly planted in the flowerbed Missus Johnson had planted to “give the town a touch of color”. The fact that he hadn’t moved and the color was decidedly obscured by his presence would like as not give her a stroke.

Folks started to guess the cause of Hal’s broken head when they noticed the faint imprint of a lipstick kiss on his forehead and the sight of Sally Jean’s skirts darting around the corner of the general store…

he lost his
mind somewhere
in the musk
of her hair
september stars
upon the hill

One thought on “t0o!

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