Friday Fictioneers – July 6, 2012


I labor steady, slowly, surely.  Block after block, hewn from my ruin.  This hapless task at hand.  Construct a habitation of words.  I use whatever I come by, wherever I happen to be.  With an eye for the concrete and a feeling for sky.  I’m a weedy terrain, dried up from AA and a searing of spurn.  No smoke, no rain.  I’ve been looking for signs or instructions:  there are none.  Or far too many.  So I set out simply to make.  A noun, a verb, an adjective; pasting with participles and pronouns.  Tedious, thankless, alone.  I build, it crumbles.  It cracks, I evolve.  Not much of a shelter, but it holds.  And remains, opening up to the night.

Thanks for Madison Woods and the continuous production of prompts for this weekly challenge and exercise: Friday Fictioneers

23 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – July 6, 2012

"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and an other - a territory shared by both" - M. Bakhtin

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