Outbreath
“Outbreath? Do you mean exhale?” Nia asked.
“You’re questioning outbreath?” Thalia giggled. “Don’t you remember we used our made-up word as O’s chapter title in Flourishing Fictions?”
Cal added, “We didn’t want to employ — see, I’m using the word employ, instead of use, because we used use in the last paragraph — only the best for the recipients of our love letters! And that’s why we didn’t want to employ exhale in today’s title. We’re trying hard not to repeat words over and over… a writerly faux pas.” Poetess Cal cleared her throat and continued, “Try this line on for size. Leaves of grass exhale under our bare feet. What do you think?”
“I think the last paragraph is a jumble of confusion, and yet somehow I understand.” Nia swished a bare foot across lush lawn. She felt the earth breathe into her sole… and her soul.
Words from Typist:
In “C” news… A woman at the dog park stopped me yesterday. “I hope you don’t mind my asking… What kind of cancer?” I told her breast. She went on to share that she was nine years C-free. She had ovarian cancer at age 29 and again at age 34.
#cancergift
Doors open for connection.
If inclined, I’d love your thoughts on the muse pictures above.
I have my reasons for why I did what I did. I’m not sharing them here now as I’d like your un-biased reaction to what you see.
Left? Right? Neither? Combination?
Why? Why not?
Suggestions?
BUTTON: “Remember, if Plan A fails, there are 25 letters left.” 😁
Right. Definitely. I see the Muses as real but not totally tethered to our plane of existence, so sometimes they present themselves as audible and visible, but sometimes as audible as an echo and as visible as an afterimage, and sometimes like a memory in real time.
After the episode of shelf shabble shifting yesterday, did Cal find a copy of Walt Whitman’s “The Leaves Of Grass?” I realized I would always use “blades” while Cal and Walt far more poetically chose “leaves.” 🤔 But I can alliterate...