Nikki Maxwell Poet Free verse

Advice

That hazy space you find yourself wandering to between blinks,

It is not fog between your ears.
You will not get lost in it,
Become stuck in it as a fly
Is caught in a spider's pale lair.
As boots are buried in a sudden quicksand.

It is not your damnation,
Not an indication that this is as far as you go. 
That the footsteps behind you mark both
Your past and future, and in front
Of you is all cliff and no ground.

It is your playground
It is your arcade
It is clouds soaring above a gray globe.
It is a symbol for pen on paper.
It is ink on canvas.

So embrace it.
Twirl your fingers in it.
Feel its grainy texture run between your palms.
Let yourself wander in it.

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Barthwell Farmer December 12, 2025 at 11:42 AM Fine visuals throughout, like the web and fly simile, the footprints, the cliff, that induce me into a feeling that I am hovering with blinks and perked ears. The exposition-setter of the first two lines is intriguing. The "gray globe" line is my favorite image.