Tag: Writing

Wittgenstein And The Plum

  Say it      and it is so: a plum      dripping nectar           on living fingers   The unsaid bears no plump fruit.   The unimagined       remains forever…
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Shatters of a mini looking-glass

  If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Gemology turquoise of the sky, peeping through the cloudy mist as milk narrows to the drain dripping…
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