Elley Blue

Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: Tribal Love

That night He made tribal love to me. Ancient, angry, animal love. Drumming for the rain on the plains of our bodies I was the sand and he was the sea Meeting to the beat of the stampede I was the earth and he the seed, He the quickening quirk of the tree Our limbs…

Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: The Truth of the Moth

If I were called in to construct a religion, I should make use of light. I would worship at the peak of the day, Basking and glorying on some hilltop made divine by the sun, My offering a half-hour of sapped-strength lazing. I would not sequester my faith in dusty shadows, Chiaroscuroing my faith between…

Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: The Truth of the Moth

If I were called in to construct a religion, I should make use of light.   I would worship at the peak of the day, Basking and glorying on some hilltop made divine by the sun, My offering a half-hour of sapped-strength lazing. I would not sequester my faith in dusty shadows, Chiaroscuroing my faith…

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