Friday 55 January 26, 2018

Despite a frazzled brain and an uncooperative Blogger dashboard, I have (hopefully) managed to get this Friday 55 up and running, so welcome! This little hidden backstreet of the internet is a place for practicing the writer's craft--in 55 words of prose or poetry, no more, no less--and sharing it in memory of a unique soul named Galen Hayes, who has since passed on to a larger horizon. So if you're in the mood to turn your thoughts on a lathe of 55 words, please link the result in the comments below and I will be by to contemplate it.

Please note that blogger is being difficult lately, and comments may take longer than usual to publish--if you can't get yours to come through the interweb hoses, email me at the link on my profile, which you can access from the sidebar, and I will see that it gets included.

My own 55 follows here...

 

Some Random Fancies

Memory's mirror steals tomorrow.

Thought gates in

 comfort or torture, hauled

in the wheeled heart's freight.

Hope's a midnight dancer with

masks removed at dawn. Fate

flies like a drunken raven;

jealousy poisons the lawn.

.

Lust has scars and flowers

for those who call it love;

death's an infinite kidnap

where no ransom is enough.

~January 2018

Image: Girl with Death Mask (She Plays Alone) 1938, © Frida Kahlo   Fair Use