A poem composed with the last lines of random books from Bluestockings.
Holding still, thinking nothing at all, is my biggest accomplishment
Greek myths and quadratic equations will come later
Now we will sing
F. Premise awoke one morning from troubled dreams to find that her innocence had gone missing.
Make more than dust
Soon we three will cross the clearing and enter the forest for good
He curled his fingers around her hand and held her, cupped in the shelter of his palm, a separate world to climb inside, to be theirs, to be known.
And if anyone has trouble understanding that, well, they can kiss my ass.
That is the beginning and the end
Somewhere I think I must still be standing, just like that.
Our task is to create this language and start listening