Tightness

Sharing with The Sunday Muse

Dark runs with the imps, the river, and the ions

all together in the fall, over and over and down;

space expands. It was meant to be a hole

but there are crumbs in the empty.

Dark swerves from the backsplash of atoms

combining behind, above, right through--

every explosion reminds it of the light,

the tightness, then the shove away.

tl;dr: taking an extended break & good luck in the new year :)

Well. The yard is looking much less dead than I expected. Dandelions are super hearty, at least for freakish Texas weather. However, there are still several pots that didn't make it or need refurbishing and, as I look around the office, I feel the same way about so many of my projects from the last several years. They've been potted (in notebooks & on the computer) but, for (possibly freakish) reasons, they've failed to thrive. Maybe I've gone out and gotten too many adorable starts that are now leggy or crispy or sort of staring listlessly out a window wondering what happened.  Maybe that's just me. Only round instead of leggy.

Not unlike my backyard--or my crazy provisional Kindle list (reading the first few chapters of a random lot of books should count for something)--my writing has become starts, random notes, and what happened earlier in the day when _[insert noun here]___  pissed me off. Projects aren't thriving and neither am I. I'm not even sure what the question is--is it how to finish? Whether to finish? What new direction to pursue? After the storm, I know that the plants need a little extra care. Maybe then it'll be time for the stories.

Best wishes for your own projects!

-- Chrissa