Perhaps
Ends; begins. Writ; collected.
Category: Prose & poetry
Day 10
Small pilot boats ‘n ridden rafts threw cheers toward the hull, their voices smashing gladly ‘gainst the iron.
Day 9
A gull alit, a-lightly, on a length of timber as the timbre of its undulating call caused crashing waves of echoed sound to bridge the Avon. It preened at its grey-tinged feathers before pacing the abutment’s edge.
Day 8
The shimmershine of sweat shed through their painted, perfumed canvas caught the glist’ning glare of Horus ‘fore it soaked the linen veil that cloaked the contour-lines that led below their naveled peaks ‘n met between their thighs.
Day 7
Two grids, lain down ‘pon each surface, their calculated squares collecting up, in tessellated time, their timeless, abstract forms.
Day 6
Her tilted head held em’rald eyes; her countenance – false-furrowed. Her mouth mixed signals: hold, unstable frown!
Day 5
Watching, all the while, th’Egyptian sky, she breaks upward, stands, and steps over and between baskets of fish ‘n grain…
Day 4
“Avast!” the axe-fall blade, abrupt, demanded death-industrial: it called, it falled, found its fortune to be laid upon the wharfway stone.
Day 3
The past: t’was present, as the present: t’was pushed passed. The world: t’was floating ‘midst the passing future.
Day 2
The girl knelt and stared at the grains, all gathered, of the hot, compacted sand, lowering her right hand slowly t’ward its canvas-surface.
Sunrise – Day 1
Sunrise, then, o’er the city of the sceptre; dawn about the fort upon the chasm.
william altoft 