Among the Strings

I have nothing to say, but the ink flows anyway, awaiting synapses to coalesce into ideas or images waiting for the muse to present. I sit on a comfy couch listening to the singing of sitting on cotton springs, flesh of plant. I wait. Everything is skin– an atom of being and belief. Does God reside on the spin, of all flavors of taste?

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Among the Strings

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s