currentsea.

Insomnia again. And again, an idea to be expanded, reworked, reworded. Suggestions appreciated.


Got paid today.
The currentsea of a river, slowed from run to walk to waltz.
You dance and deal out H and O, flowing past the reedbed like I
as I fashions flutes from shoots
plays
prays its riverbanknotes are in the right safekey.
And you linger
to listen.
Can you finance this flood?

novel update.

i think the third draft may or may not be complete.
please read it for me.
i need this.

"She nestled further into the sheets, her face half-buried in the soft cotton and sleep. Simon saw the dark around her eyes, reaching from her lids down into her round cheeks and beyond. Black mascara and eyeliner running over her face like the lines that come with age and wisdom. She lay there naked and only partially covered with blankets and her makeup smeared and running. Cosmetics undone. Made what they call beautiful and then not. That sexual advertisement, blood rushing to the face, for which makeup originated pulled down like shades by a hand of fluid salt. Still, Simon knew some looks need only an audience to attract. Aphrodite lips. Athena eyes. She had deities all knotted and caught up in her image. Corpses of Greek heroes thrust upon her neck to rest, bask in the glory for which they fought. And Simon found himself another casualty."