The ways to one another are uneven.
Steps expand, contract, falter, fuse
Feet unsure, like magnets running
Fixed fast to the sprawling spin
Of simple skin and porous bone.
We push hands through texture
Cool walls made up of paint layers
The infinite cocoon, reaching
To feel the heated depth of each other
A place we’ve always had in our grasp
(Image: “Three Witches”. Click on the image to enlarge!)
|Elan Mudrow on Fluid|
|artrosch on Fluid|
|artrosch on Shelly|
|Arthur Rosch on Shelly|
|Elan Mudrow on Social Distancing|