Automatic writing from the great beyond. Poem fragments, mental illness, whatever. Come for the inscrutability, stay for the brevity
Our secret war:
how we tumbled out onto the beach
expecting rain
only to find the sky everywhere with birds.
I am dreaming our secret history.
Worn down to a nub
hands clawing at the sand for something
like cover, a place to wait
until the water reclaims us.
Writing on the Wall is a newsletter for freelance writers seeking inspiration, advice, and support on their creative journey.
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