TenseI am sitting on an edge. I am sitting on an edge that is as easily discerned from five feet away as it is from low earth orbit. Here in this part of the world (I have talked about this, I think) two rivers come together and mix, heading out from where I am and mingling westward.
It is still somewhat unpleasant down here. The paving is awash with mud and other junk from the recent flood or floods. There is the odor of old water in the air. The rivers are quite flat. The throaty rumbles of trucks in low gear cut across the space, calling out on either shore.
It is the nature of this media to say what I see as I see it; present tense is often the rule. It is not true now, but it will be true later: I will not have been here anymore.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.