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Moonbeams

Lynne
252 Watchers276 Deviations
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Literature

When You See Us

Now I know why I love to watch the leaves fall from a distance - each one following the other is a dance that takes you away from the ground. And the numbers of us slow us when you take sound away - just a mass moving into a fog too soft to define it mad. Inside the gray a brood sleeps a foliage - tail over tail, a shade of rest. This is how the world was meant to be seen, why a pilgrimage is done as a group, why a glide between trees is as sleek as the wind if it were to be seen. Receive our words as couched in symbols on a DOS screen, as green - as rain.

All

276 deviations
Literature

When You See Us

Now I know why I love to watch the leaves fall from a distance - each one following the other is a dance that takes you away from the ground. And the numbers of us slow us when you take sound away - just a mass moving into a fog too soft to define it mad. Inside the gray a brood sleeps a foliage - tail over tail, a shade of rest. This is how the world was meant to be seen, why a pilgrimage is done as a group, why a glide between trees is as sleek as the wind if it were to be seen. Receive our words as couched in symbols on a DOS screen, as green - as rain.

Featured

186 deviations
Literature

Untitled

At 3AM At the grazing of the door's hinges you think of rust, but outside in the nails bleeding into the snow in that you saw the peeling of the bolts of swing-sets first -- hunks of things left abandoned in distances away from home always ahead of you like a light you don't know is dead, when you were too young to know you weren't lagging behind, but bowing, and receding like a swinging fixture of something before it settles. The screeching of a slowing merry-go-round lands on the threshold between your ankle and the door, between something like where your mother leaves off, and you go on; here you think of the squalls of a bird, similar taking off in flight calling for a more open space from when your two minds could meet; maybe the first in a series of squeals on which such a setting hinges; on which you lie, palms curled and gathered inert across its blue backdrop. The house taken out of its time falls apart - each pipe, plied piece, and appliance deprived of its

Select

6 deviations
Literature

On Getting Closer to the Sky

On the cross-bridge the sky most of the time was farther away than close, a strand of hair a layer between myself the clouds - farther away. Buildings spread out - the sky pulled the city back with it farther away. My hand a silhouette in the view like a car chasing down a horizon until the sun and the birds fall away. Sometimes I traced a constellation, or stared at the moon. The memory loves a moon when it's bright. The memory loves how the moon can remember the shapes of roofs - their autumns and eclipses, the tracings of their surroundings from far away.

Non-featured

72 deviations
Dusk or Dawn

Photography

7 deviations
A Pause

Digital Work

6 deviations
Literature

Untitled

Of FlyingWhat of the flightleft behind in places perched;the disturbance, and bucklingof things falling...
Watchers-Only

Temporary

10 deviations
Sketch 3

Sketches

9 deviations
Literature

Fish Fins In Dusk

We too pass in shadows; on walls  --   headlights stringing patterns perpendicular from the street pulling us forward as we shift back to our rightful shapes to be averted again. We are neighbors going in and out of each other behind blinds like the shallow end of a home to those who come to the foot of it as bits of light lap up the pools of shapes in concrete breaking from their black just light enough to receive the steps of an early arrival. In the day we are never as receptive to vases or glass bowls; the softness of us hardening to paperweights fallen upon the world. But you, there is still a bit of home in you, scattered in it co

Devious Folder

16 deviations
Literature

After Analog

Now you can place the TV by a window, and tell yourself the sound of static was a storm  -- mistake the metal rabbit ears for something else, and blink back into now come across a set of hangers, tweezers, or pair of spoons that are anything but an antenna. Anything but a part of an old living room and a box that has stopped humming the giant silent white noise. *********** The way we open our doors after a storm, after rain, and snow. Now you can tell yourself it was a storm  -- the continual hiss   becoming the sound of rain. The snow melting away away into your neighbor's house, the fog clearing.

Devious Folder 2

17 deviations
Shopping Organic

Devious Folder 3

4 deviations
Literature

Universe

All I had was the sound of my voice besides my name. I had heard you call others by names that weren't theirs in your sundowning. Please tell me that knowing is the same as when the gray asphalt sometimes jumps into a dance, and then the sound of applause can be heard from above before it is rain. Tell me you never had to know it was rain, that all of that stays in the reservoir from which you pull the things you love. All I had was the sound of my voice besides my name - you far from sundowning. I had heard you call others by the wrong name. Please tell me that knowing is similar (to how the weather) is sometimes first the gray asphalt jumping into a dance, and then the sound of applause before it is rain. Tell me that you never had to know it was rain in the first place, how all of that lives in the gray How the moon is suddenly on the other side of a sunset before it is night. Familiar, even if you didn't know it was me. Saing Goodbye All I had was the sound of my

Scraps

160 deviations