Wildflower. Wilderness. Wildebeast.
that is me
Caught in the light
whispers of cold air
muffled through the fabric
of my skin.
about in poetry when I’m in bed.
Just before the sleep.
Thoughts come in images to me all day long. Not in words.
When I’m awake, I never think in words, I always think in images and pictures.
WHen I’m in bed, I don’t.
In bed, I think in images of words.
Yup. Pictures words make together.
Designs with words.
LIke a crossword
I can’t really explain it other than poetry.
But even that feels not adequate because poetry connotes conains so much imagery.
Not to me.
Poetry is feeling.
Words conjure feeling within me more than pictures.
For some reason words feel heavier. There is a weight to them that I then get to measure out.
Pictures have weight but have been pre-measured for me. I don’t get to find their mass, volume, depth, gravity.
I like books. I like movies. But, I feel more free reading a book than watching a movie.