Friday 55 June 8 2018

Welcome to the Friday word emporium, 55ers. Here we try to put aside the conventions of the blogosphere and look to our own craft, in a place I like to think of as a comfortable room full of non-judgemental kindred spirits, an atmosphere I always felt when this meme was overseen by its generous originator, Galen Hayes. The rules remain the same, no rules except the word count, 55 of them, no more, no less, prose, poetry, satire, lyric, narrative lament...whatever you can wrap your pen around.

Link your effort in the comments below between Friday and Saturday at midnight, and I will be by to read.

Without further ado, let's start the 55 rolling:

Resonance

Sampling

the aquifer of her 

semi-conductive sorrows

my clone begins

to hate me.

Who 

could blame her

blistered

with alien faults,

given not life

but a monotone's bastard

resonance,

no cry, no song's sigh

to cipher our carrion end.

The soul she cannot twin

fears her. Eternity shines 

liquid before me;

forever she's held

homeless.

 ~June 2018

Images: Polar Light, 1926, ©Rene Magritte   Fair Use

Title unknown, ©Dmitry Brodetsky, via internet. Fair Use.