Life, of Late.
“...(H)er tongue on a cliff of a sentence”
A friend asked me the other day if I had written anything lately.
Lately? Well, no - no I haven’t. The words have been quiet of late. Perhaps it is a time of introspection - or perhaps the words are simply reserved, low - hushed. Still there, but waiting softly in the wings.
Perhaps the words are not yet fully formed and are shifting in context, tone and syntax - quivering consonants, restraining synonyms. Muttering and puttering - a soft susurration of shifting conversation and jostling between the hierarchy of words. Who goes first, who goes last - who holds the middle.
Plucking words and forcing order only brings snarling commas and bedlam amoung the m-dashes. An cavalier and contumacious scribble and drivel across the page.
Frustration writ between the lines.
So here I’ll be - holding a cacophony of words in the wings of my mind until they settle like the light in the frame of a photo.
Seen, witnessed and writ.
