CLUES NAKED, REVEALED
Spit it out
These nails
This dust
These flowers
Spit it out
And move on.
The soles of my feet
Wedded to dust
Spit it out move on.
This naked morning
This clarity of frost
Say it.
Unsaid, it is not.
Spit it out
Like nails.
Seeing is sewing.
Speaking,
A song of noise.
Birdsong
In the mist.
simonhlilly 
Wonderful-love the imagery and intensity of emotion!
I tend towards tangles of word streams. It’s nice when it emerges terse and tidy!
Well this is one heck of a word stream, my dear friend. ~joelly
Reblogged this on Spoondeep and commented:
Some defined edge, for a change.