Skin trembles with the muscle that sheathes the innermost reaches of the lush garden behind a poem that is tended to nurture and feed the disarmed and disappeared, which never asserts except to underscore an endless stretch of unseen elements, each moved only to dissolve the ends of their reach to attach at the points of dissolution, into some more and ever unknown, whole.
The look in that frog’s eye! Sheer beauty, no words for that. What a waltz you do with words Ms. Johnson!
Bill, thank you : )
“which never asserts except to underscore an endless stretch of unseen elements” … This That Is by any other name … Love! Amaya
Thank you, friend. Love.