American Sentence LXXXII
The train gathers salt black, its passengers weary, delicate truths slip.
14 thoughts on "American Sentence LXXXII"
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The train gathers salt black, its passengers weary, delicate truths slip.
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Oh, this one is intriguing! I am curious what those “delicate” truths are…
So cool, Pam!
Stunning. I have so enjoyed your American Sentences this month. Amazing what you do with 17 syllables. So intriguing and evocative.
I love this series. Really vivid and inspiring, Pam. I’m having a hard month and these tiny jewels are wonder-full. Thank you!
Pam, we’ll keep following these delicate truths all the way down the line! This feels like your collection’s thesis in a way to me.
This one is a favorite!
Love this enigmatic poem; timeless, yet presence abounds. Impeccable craft, movement, and musical. Thank you, Pam
I love this sentence, Pam; it’s one of my favorites. You challenge me with the construction, “salt black.” My mind wants to read it, “black salt,” which may be more conventional, but you make me consider other meanings, other journeys. Nice.
I’m going to have to sleep on this one, Pam!
“delicate truths slip”
So intriguing!
This made me go oooooh.
“delicate truths slip” is beautiful!
Pam—the way you create the sense of motion, accretion, fatigue, and confession in 17 syllables is pretty dang remarkable. Have enjoyed being on this train with you through the month of June.
A community is slowly forming, built on shared, delicate, truths!
amazing and intriguing! Never heard of this form before you and have totally enjoyed your poems this month!