Architecture from someplace or another elsewhere. Cracks between the clouds, five to seven everyone is there waiting, everything stayed,for something. Moments ceased over the weekenders, paused, sitting tight, lying low. Now, holding phones, looking for Monday morning's push. By Emmy Horstkamp 12/2/2024
This morning I wrote four poems. The poem above is from the longer Storeyean poem.
Because my commute was longer, I left some of the calendars at home and decided to write those poems in my regular notebook. All of the photographs for the poems will be printed on stamped later in the week.
Today transformed into a sunny day.