Today’s Prompt is one I’ve tried before to mixed successes. I opted to revise for some sense of clarity afterwards, so this prompt is like 50-60% true to form. It came from this lovely poem.
It was around town in the baskets.
varied and sliced. Ire bewitched me in jest. Those who can, violate the want.
Though with my shield so vast, those who can, steer clear.
Now, It’s 5:40, December, September?
This journey is rarified and round and takes all of my words to bring to flower. Weened.
Can I not negotiate this burden? Can I slap words into the bins of the chosen? No, then strike out! There can be no point in between.
Tell me we are the same with different words. I am waiting.
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