The blue spaces

In America, we seem to be living an incredible nightmare, a president we should never have elected who treads on all that’s best about this country.  Yet in spite of America’s bleak outlook, our lives go on.  In the gleaming of words of ideas, in the ripe fissures of metaphor in dresses, of skirted valentines and corn tresses, of dark thick beauty among rocks and motorcycles, we stumble through the arc of language story.  Mica on the rocks, our faces in it.  Wake up America, before it’s too late.

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Published in: on May 24, 2018 at 7:47 pm  Leave a Comment  

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