This is a form, a style that follows a pattern, where the single lines are summations without doing it obviously. The idea of the images is to build though metaphor and symbolism the feeling and then capture it in the single line without saying what it is. Read them and find out what I mean
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We were the wind, the white sails
feeling the hard thrum of the waves against the hull. -
Your fingers on my lips.
held my whispers, let them collect ~ -
We were the wind, the white sails
feeling the hard thrum of the waves against the hull. -
Caught in the stillness of an echo,
the fog betrays itself, smearing -
The morning air: cider fresh, crisp as a MacIntosh. I soak in the sanguine maples, roll in the gold of oaks.
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The child on the adventure of footsteps
echoes the joy of his love in first skip. -
Imagine this cloth space.
Hands of an origami master
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