Spin, spun, spinning. The words come twisting, shaping, tapering down to the wheel from the sternum to pelvis focal point. What tentative mental tweaks and shifts attempt to eliminate the chaff to produce a smooth and strong, coherent, stream to the page, the ear, the heart. Anchored within myself, how long is the line cast to be caught and secured.
Once I read of cloth woven of spun emotions – such light, shimmering cloth of joy and the thorn studded chafing cloth of despair.
So, the words. So, the moments. So, so. Shh, shh. Let the fingers be deft, mind the weft, mind the warp – mind the mind and the waves cast upon its shores.
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