|glorious heights inverted|
Humanity grows as the trees grow;
Solid and wide at the bottom,
And then branching, narrowing, and splintering into knotted blackened spikes at the top.
Until ever-increasing rot trickles downward, spreading slow death, toppling all.
K. Shawn Edgar | Less Stettled | Grim Colliser
The rectangle of light shared with me two stories. One of energetic reaching and stabbing; another of subtle conjoining and bending.
The first, illustrated with the bristled arms of aggression and the soaring amplitudes of blood magic, alarmed Rat-Tat-Tat impulses on the insides of my insides.
A deep sleep intervened until the second story, having percolated beyond time, all coffee-brown and alert, bubbled over. Gleam, glean, glimmer. Curves, angled sunlight and lilacs over flannels.
K. Shawn Edgar | York ghost
When I’m 93 I won’t remember a single Valentine’s Day, Christmas, or vacation.
I’ll rewind and review instead every time I sat in my car on the parking lot at the Fred Meyer writing words, poetic or refined, and eating twenty-five cent doughnuts.
It’s these defining moments I cherish now and will remember forever, even beyond death.
#kshawnedgar #words #goodtimes