sentence fragments
December 16, 2015 § 6 Comments
It is a strange mischief that distracts me when my intentions are most earnest. Every sentence breaks under the weight of silence until there are only fragments.
“no matter the seasons of responsibilities that pull at my attention, I have carved this small sanctuary for joy”
“one-dimensional pieces of paper began to evolve into wheels with intricate spokes suffocated in layers of scotch tape”
“as the horn assaulted the quiet, I moved toward you as if through water; there was no air between us”
“little promises etched against the day”
scribblechic 
Despite your earlier protestations, Marie: this is poetry.
There’s something to be said for the unpolished fragments, in art and life.
The last is my favorite:).
Thanks, Kay. The last one was, ironically, where I began.
Notebooks are great 🙂 Now if only I could remember where I put mine…
More often, mine are misplaced on borrowed corners of scratch paper.