Tonight I wanted to aim for a greater sense of abstraction— blurring three images as one. By juggling the traditional syllable count to a pattern of 5-5-7-7-7, my habitual rhythms were thrown off, allowing a stronger sense of mixed impressions.
•256 / over-ripe peaches, spotted with bruises— the bowl becomes the full room— or as the full weight of day, breaking through the drawn curtains—
—all based off a paper bag of fruit my parents gave us from their trip from Plano. After a few days the bottom layer of peaches grew too soft, broke open oozing a syrupy liquid over the kitchen counter tops. The peaches became the room, their presence confirmed in sunlight.
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