Dust does not dull the pen
Though the ink may stutter,
Resisting first contact with the page,
But, like muscles cold from disuse,
It warms as the pen skips and flies
Until words flow as if never still.
He was swimming through a sea of winds that spun and whirled without moving as they shouted, calling out to each other in panicked voices. Their cries buffeted him and sent him reeling from one to the other. Each burst burned, and although Matt tried to right himself, his body wouldn’t […]