A palimpsest of turbulent onions dropped their fall leaves in the spring time of my life with wonderful aplomb and wretched containment of fraught artifacts dating to last July.
Skies above and below flowed a notch short of standard schemas and views into tables of cupness and cups overflowing with incomplete tableness. Reminders of remaindered books lifted the certain curtain obscuring obscure little men and little women–of Oz and Alcott–a mashup of infinite infinities and chiropractic adjustments aligned with the sixteenth earl of Duke. Flukes of errors and flukes of whales absconded with the mesmerized purveyors of Stockholm syndrome, the Copenhagen interpretation having divined for Christiana the slinky of Helsinki.
Dead leaves and the dirty ground made white stripes of onions grow all through the fall of the restless empire, but Jack dropped his Jill and the hill came tumbling after.
The hill came tumbling after.
Tumbling after.
After.
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The silk papers fell from the box that was gifted by the Japanese emperor to the royal palace in the middle of the deep blue sea. He said these are not,… wrong between the lines, wrong story… you have to turn the pages. You will see the North lights…
This a beautiful flowing again into the words, dear writer, I’m rolling down from that hill too, trying to pretend that I understand what I don’t understand.
Thank you, I hope you don’t mind I share what I started to talk in my mind. Love, nia
Share, share, and share again! Flow into the silk ocean of blue emperors, and share your gift of understanding deep boxes!
When the silk papers dispersed in the blue water, the writings on them started to disappear, but it was a great entertainment for the drunk fishes.. They were trying to collect the words.. Their stomachs were filled with the words on the silk papers. Time should pass..
Imagine the full net of drunk fishermen the drunk fish caught in the hairnets of the fishermen’s wives.
Wonderful ♥️
Dear Rick, I am laughing, my tears in my eyes because of laughing.. Who are we? Thank you, have a nice new week, Love, nia
Fun by any other name would be blue Japanese boxes. In the city.
Lovely piece. I write fictional short stories I’d love it if you read something of mine.
Wow! What an opening sentence! Linda 🤩
😀