writing at pillows cafeA Poem by J.Arthur.Blittle ode to communityAren’t we a bunch of stories waiting to collide with another
to make sense, words and phrases spread over a table, puzzles pieces beaten
apart by a baby kid? Sometimes lucky sometime missed, each in a way wondering
around, writing. Yes writing a lot. So you are checking
your watch again, confirming is pass midnight and here you are alone, you and
your words, your pillow, a closed window, figuring out how you happen to not
understand, but we don’t understand, that’s our thing. If one thing set someone
apart is not to understand, driving us further, away, where is alone. Writing, over reading, and re-writing again. Is way past midnight and I got a feedback, from someone,
must likely from really far away, I mean, continentally away,and I realize we
are just a bunch of stories waiting to collide. writing © 2016 J.Arthur.BReviews
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Added on April 7, 2016Last Updated on June 22, 2016 Author
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