{"sf1_id":1713738,"sf2_id":"Rm0gjkpe","title":"Liminality","author":"makyo","words":111,"posted_at":"2021-05-03T05:54:00.000Z","tags":["Poem","sonnet"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1713738-liminality","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Rm0gjkpe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/b7/bc/b7bc89fb-d225-4dff-9738-86b3f356a0a5","description":"#2 of Poetry\n\nFrom Eigengrau: https://makyo.ink/publications/eigengrau","content":"A year starts not on January first.  \n\u0026nbsp; The days may hunder but the seasons speak  \nof time's long march, of fast time, slow time. Thirst  \n\u0026nbsp; for \"start\" and \"end\" neglects the limen sleek.  \nSo, why do some unsubtle sciences  \n\u0026nbsp; forget about the in-betweens? Those pure  \nuncolored dreams made mere contrivances;  \n\u0026nbsp; \"between the years\" now simply: \"year, then year\".  \nThese rough mechanics, held unseen, can spoil  \n\u0026nbsp; the beauty of our silent spaces, take  \nfrom us the liminality, embroil  \n\u0026nbsp; our lives in cold and tired minutiae.  \n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; Come sit with me, come stay with me inside  \n\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; this place between where strange new loves abide.  \n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1713734-the-eighteenth-whisker-on-the-left-is-brown.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1811377-penguins.json"}}