MARYN TERRA ART

The first sharp bite of winter’s chill greets my lungs in the morning; still robed in velvet black before the tired sun has found the...

The heavy sky sinks to the ground to kiss the brittle soil, like an ageless youth would gently hold a withering old lover. The whispering...

The sky calls me to hilltops or maybe just reflects the call burst forth inside my own heart; pounding like a drum, writhing until it...

Remember In the winter your hair gets darker with the brittle morning hours, empty and blacker than coffee blacker than coffee black like...

Something feeds on the marrow in my bones, leaving them hollow; but not like a bird’s, whose bones are full of sky and sunshine, to make...

Clutter (The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman) Clutter on the floor fills up this house’s heavy lungs, While clutter in my mind...

Somewhere, A flower blooms in endless succession unto itself, each petal emerging radiant and fading as it spirals outwards, 1,1,2,3;...

Upon the open hill she stands, Alone with the descending sky; A quiet breath, and gentle hands In placid stillness, hold her high Above...

In the flickering orange light, I see words unfold upon this page in flashes; fed what strange thoughts grow in the vast spaces between...

My heart must be very dark hidden so deep inside my chest. If only my skin and flesh and bones would let the sun shine through; like the...

Just hold your breath and wait for your unheard tears to drown all the hollow spaces hiding among the grey shades of this town; steadily,...

The inky silence softens with the coming of a moth; quiet wings, my quiet heart opens to this velvet night. And when the early morning...