The Sound of Ink

  The highway is a paintbrush and wide-open canvas. Talent doesn’t sit in the corner like a wall flower begging a dance…Creative likes the wind in its hair, wheels humming music through a landscape of star stunned palettes thirsting for revelation.   Do you think Dali, Frida, or Van Gogh had any F’cks to give about societal maps trying to plot their destinations?   I’d love to take a convertible ride with the three of them, slap conformity in the ass, and conjure daydreams from smoke rings storming the air.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #131

  “No my friend, darkness is not everywhere, for here and there  I find faces illuminated from within; paper lanterns among the dark trees.”  ―  Carole Borges In the midnight cavern where voices smother stars she is the lantern muse of poets who hunger to write a path to open sky.  ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #129 Theia ~ Greek Goddess of Sight and Heavenly Light

Image: Alexas Photos - Pixabay   The dead in me joins October leaves in their decaying crush to crumble toward spring.   With every raking of unnecessary I deny night monsters their insomniac delight in watching me pace hours I can’t reclaim.   Raven wing shadows usher Poe’s ink to coffin daylight’s misery so sleep can write its poems across my weary eyelids. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Friday Flash 55