How do we invert a pyramid?
The lightning streaked my eyes again. A murder of crows, flying. The hard, crisp blackness of power lines, and a bolt through my vision. It’s increasing. Sparkle vision.
K. Shawn Edgar | Feb. 17, 2018 | Moments
In this land, the sky is a ceiling. Its support columns… like slender bones. One cannot tell whether they have grown from the clouds down, or from the ground up. The effect: a lofty, projection-filled chamber, in which, the hallow places, we dwell.
K. Shawn Edgar | 2018
I am her, she is me. Toss the jackets into the backseat. Windows rolling down. Two lanes; geese in the park, a long yellow bus drops off the approved miniatures. It’s afternoon on an autumn weekday. We stop behind the flashing red lights and octagonal sign while all school children decamp. She salutes me secretly with a two-eyed wink. Flowing on, traffic moves. There’s a beautiful wild-woman riding a bicycle, keeping pace with our car.
I’m here, between asphalt black and sky blue. Point Defiance Park pinecones and needles shine golden, drawn to the exfoliating ground as we are universally propelled by narrative. Towers and towns aren’t built, they’re written in erasable ink, erasable blood, becoming vague but never fully forgotten.
| K. Shawn Edgar | September 2017 |