Adriana.K.Maxwell
Motion, flowing, pictures cascading over each other as I watch how to animate, trying to figure out which poses are the strongest and how to transition between them so it flows
Pull the thread and the fabric puckers, little stitches toddling like a baby, little steps, little steps, big fall, and then back up again
River flows through green mountains, Chico river raising the volume of the weavers in Can-eo, swirling under the bouncy metal bridge at Anabel.
Up above, the spears lay in the ceiling as we squat around fresh lemongrass tea with dark brown chunks of sugar they crushed out of the canes and boiled down themselves.
They wait in the library as long as they can, first in, last out. It's quiet and safe. Warm. Mom goes through applications online, phone charging for the long night ahead. Sometimes, the boy can get a snack. It's never enough, but it's something.
Shine, little star, let the whole world see you, another sparkle to the night, glitter in the dark, a wishing spot, far away so far you look a speck with unknown planets spinning around you
I put it in my pocket, stone snuggling with the scrap of yarn and a little note to keep my thoughts that I forgot about and will discover crumpled when I do laundry.
Moss grows slow and silent, softening rough bark, making a carpet for snails and rollie pollies
Anchor keeps the ship steady, waiting until the supplies are gathered. You can not sail off whenever, you need water and hardtack and men and extras. The harbor is a refuge not a prison.
Sweet candy, waiting for me, calming me down, lingering on my tongue, bright colors and swirls, making it delectable
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