Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

The exhale.


the evening is at its best
a feral child
at rest
breathing in flutters
and flocks of swallows,
long tomorrows
thoughts you kill and resurrect
the wisp of wind upon your neck
the joy you feel
the crystal laugh
when vicious swelter
snaps in half…

Not sure where it came from but that was running laps in my head for a few hours.

It was so nice tonight that I biked home at inches per hour. If the rest of the upcoming summer could be like this, that would be great.

This has been a brief stopover on the longer journey. I expect I’ll be back here again someday.

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This entry was posted on May 26, 2010 by in Biking, Chicago, Poetry, Writing.
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