Today, I'm just happy to be back writing. I'm a little off prompt, but I don't care. Just happy to be writing again. The title for this is completely unrelated, but the idea of it struck me. Here is my draft:
At the
Edge of the Uncanny Valley
Elements that rise to meet the river’s edge:
knot of tule marsh, sponge of ground
black and red winged shock of blackbird taking flight
knotted oaks with arms so long they scrape the ground
and hills soaked in an ocean of grass whose sway
who sway you say will save me.
knot of tule marsh, sponge of ground
black and red winged shock of blackbird taking flight
knotted oaks with arms so long they scrape the ground
and hills soaked in an ocean of grass whose sway
who sway you say will save me.
Sea birds whose screams sear through us
like plates scraped against each other.
Violence near enough that it might rise up
molten and unexpected. Still the cars park
like plates scraped against each other.
Violence near enough that it might rise up
molten and unexpected. Still the cars park
Hands clasp plastic baggies full of stale bread
Sea birds circling, greedy, fat with the knowledge
Sea birds circling, greedy, fat with the knowledge
there will always come more—That somehow
wherever we stand, we stand by the sea
and all that we know to do is to feed it.
wherever we stand, we stand by the sea
and all that we know to do is to feed it.
