but there is a fold in the sky a slip to fissure through a rift to slice sideways beside between the mean and the deep trends we can't tend without focus we can'd build without crocus bright hope in the brush in the crush that once fell and the smell of rust washed away -- the play that is the thing that means the end
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justme
side note
While this blog's original purpose was to keep myself honest in my practice of doing daily justwrites-- 10-minute freewrites from some unusual starting points-- it has meandered to occasionally include other sorts of writing, to address other goals, and to even include other authors. Now, its main function is as a sort of verbal/ thought outcropping in public view. These are not polished pieces, and most are completely rough drafts. As some pieces may be developed through revision, your comments are most appreciated.
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