follow me, she said. I don’t mind going first and I’m the only one with a map. Image | Posted on November 14, 2019 by Doro Boehme
today, the lake is thinking of Cage – pour water from one receptacle into another – and of Philip Glass, unsure if its notation scheme would garner approval by either composer but the sound of the piece, believe me, was glorious. Image | Posted on November 12, 2019 by Doro Boehme
the bridge looks at its neighbor, envies it for someone walking across. “It’s just a single guy,” the neighbor answers, always able to tell when things between them are somewhat amiss. “Don’t sweat it.” “It’s November. I won’t,” the bridge blushed. Image | Posted on November 7, 2019 by Doro Boehme
