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  1d Emmanuella
The wind slowly lifted its Find into the sky
Swirling it around and around as it gathered momentum
Momentum that helped the Find raise higher
Higher and higher till it was rolling and sky bouncing
Bouncing through the air as if it were trying to see
Trying to see the nature of the wind that held it afloat
Afloat so high and with such gentleness
Gentleness that only nature can fool you into believing
Believing the journey would never end
The Find was wrong
As suddenly as the Find was lifted to great heights it began to fall
And fall it did...

Brian Hill - 2019 # 174
Seeing dust devils along the roadside can inspire words to be written...
  1d Emmanuella
Leave me.
This is no place for the gentle or the meek. You must stand in the face of the oncoming;
certain death and madness
and stare
back into                                  it with me.
But you have never seen a meeting between despair and deception. You cannot feel the burden of responsibility sitting on your chest. An anvil was never precociously placed upon your head. You see me. But I am dead.
That’s what I said
When the postman
tried to deliver
a package to me today.
                          - Perhaps I need some help.
porcelain skin
a lava-deluge

episodic angst,
in actu primo
I heard a voice

in actu secundo
I closed the shutters, drew the blinds
and split the wires linking my home to the others
We always did wonder if a piece of her brain fell to her neck
For she did sometimes—oftentimes when things were of great or grave importance,
think and talk through the side of her neck.
It was a condition we had come to diagnose in her quite early,
For she’d **** her head, sing a hum as her eyes wandered following her thoughts
And when she came to, suddenly jumping with a clap of the hands and an “aha!”
We would lean in and listen intently
But she would say something positively ludicrous, absolutely ridiculous!
Like in talking about cicadas and hibiscuses,
She would throw a hippo in there. And like last time, a stinging, mingling mangling ray!
We would all raise our brows and sigh in disappointment.
For that is what you would feel when you oftentimes hear her speak.

But sometimes, it did feel like she'd think with the piece of brain left in her head;
For she was practically logical,
Analytical to a score—sometimes. Less than oftentimes.
Then, she’d place a finger to her temple and her eyes would stare fixedly above at the ceiling or below, at the ground.
And after a while of staying so, she would speak in quite a serious tone and tell us the answer to our inquisition.
Those times, there'd be surprise and awe.
Like in talking about dark matter and soft matter physics, she, after thinking a while, would throw in some astrophysical knowledge.
So, although she'd oftentimes think through her neck, she'd sometimes think through her head;
And that is when we would cheer for her.

But the cheer would hardly be over when she'd say something utterly preposterous that we'd know, for certain, that the piece of brain that fell to her neck when she was born, was rather a large piece.
Inspired by the millennial expression: "Talking out the side of your neck" which means you are saying utter and total *******.
Fear is a creature unknown
burrowing deep down
into muscle, skin and bone
fear is the unseen flutter
in ears too open to every sound
to every insinuating whisper
that in the mind re-echoes round
fear is the endless echo
to every terrified cry
fear is the constant presence
in every breath
in every sigh
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