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Literature Text
1
rustling leaves -
under the steps,
a bushy mouse!
2
fleet of puffy clouds
floating on a sea of haze.
bright sun
3
worn paint
flakes off an ancient barn.
brick silo.
4
a dead tree
reaches from the river.
go south
5
amid empty fields
a tree-covered hill.
church steeple
6
a falcon
soars over the road.
"keep movin on"
7
ringing a farmhouse
poplars cast long shadows -
afternoon sun
8
tall grass
fans a dirt road.
clouds moving in.
9
half-moon shines
through thin hazy clouds.
no stars tonight
rustling leaves -
under the steps,
a bushy mouse!
2
fleet of puffy clouds
floating on a sea of haze.
bright sun
3
worn paint
flakes off an ancient barn.
brick silo.
4
a dead tree
reaches from the river.
go south
5
amid empty fields
a tree-covered hill.
church steeple
6
a falcon
soars over the road.
"keep movin on"
7
ringing a farmhouse
poplars cast long shadows -
afternoon sun
8
tall grass
fans a dirt road.
clouds moving in.
9
half-moon shines
through thin hazy clouds.
no stars tonight
Literature
Field Trip
Stella had never been on a field trip before. Nothing fun like that ever happened at P.S. 103. Most days Stella’s school tablet sat untouched on her desk as she stared out the window, watching the usual red dust tumble over the horizon. But as she walked into class, she noticed a strange lady standing where Ms. Juno was supposed to be. This lady had a tight smile and looked funny. Not ugly or anything. Just too fancy for a Martian school in the boonies. More like a Starship Lady.
Somewhere, out there, the Starship Colonies are living it up, her mother would say during dinner. Once they find a patch of heaven, they’ll sett
Literature
Galaxy Skin
Galaxies look like milk i spilt on the lino
ethereal,
it's true;
Nut's body was is freckled with Taraxacums and gaiety.
She tells me it's like design,
tells me that, even though my cavity chest is full
of empty space held steadfast by stardust,
that it's all God's volition, that it's all art.
she tells me that numbers/words are the window to the soul,
that I should write about emptiness and glitter and detritus in the waves happiness
Literature
On The Threshold of Creation
Daughter of Hecate,
I was born upon the threshold
of one year and the next:
a tiny earthen creature,
awash in a sea of stars.
Too late did I remember
Capricorn is the goat with
the tail of a fish,
and perhaps my legs were never meant
to tread upon the earth.
I've heard tell
that Saturn is the harshest master,
and will never be satisfied
by words alone.
In the beginning I was sure-footed
as the goat who glitters in stars above me,
ideas sprung full-grown from my head,
as Athena born from Zeus
Too late do I recall
that prophecy foretold,
Zeus' own creation
would surpass even him.
I'm still trying to puzzle out
whether my own creation
will
Suggested Collections
The local amateur astronomy club had a social out at our dark-sky location in the country yesterday evening. We were hoping for clear skies so we could do a bit of observing but ended up with too many clouds. It was still a good time and, aside from some rude drivers, the trip there and back was pleasant as well.
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Comments5
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What a great series of images.....