This, About The Man I Met Out Here In Nearly Nowhere
This, About the Man I Met Out Here In Nearly Nowhere
Out here in nearly nowhere I met this man. About him I know something something, and no one can tell me otherwise. The man was out in nearly nowhere, so how chance a thing like meeting. Out here one loses track of somewhere when all this nowhere nearly looms.
About this man, he chooses flight if such an option options through. Out here wings float on wind as if there's nowhere else but here in nearly nowhere; out here in nearly nowhere where I met this man who nowheres with me, with--or even so--without the wings we both will choose if such an option options through out here in nearly nowhere.
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Author's Note
This story appeared in Caketrain.
Other stories by kate hill cantrill
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the nearly nowhere finds its poet--
cheers, for that poet
to nowhere with me, i now invite thee?
on this long winter night--
cheerless, but for poesy
i've gone cross-eyed. very lovely.
Where does one draw the line between fiction and poetry? This is the kind of writing that must be read aloud. It only half-alive on the page. Or screen as it were.
Sing it Kate!