(source) My soul is unkempt a weed-fraught field or a moss growing wild. In daylight or nighttimein thoughts unraveling and flesh bare and breathing slowedI’ve more room to travelfrom failed love to new heartache Un-solid absorbent and unrooted Unclarity is key.
You write. You write and you write, and you try to think of something to write, and you write of the struggle. You write of the tingling in your fingertips, the electric feel of a narrative that longs to be pressed out by those fragile extensions of your very subconscious. “Let your fingers do the talking.” As if they could even understand the thoughts skipping about in my head. There is a sudden stillness that happens. That almost frightening slowing of time, the sign of a story being formulated, calling every...
(source) The river eyes in faerie-light.Wind is in the hound’s breath on the bankof the bends,riverroundabouts. Five-finger’d leaves threat at the touching ground,Spiderweb swings around veinsas a leafsong ripples through the ears. Leaflet boats seen through beetle eyesas yellow-white floodsthe dark corridors of rods and cones.A wonderthought,wanderthroughlust. Earth betweenthe ridges of skinholding tight to gravitysoftens underneath lofty thoughts. Ribbon bark, cracklelightreflects upon the brow,as green-dwellers...
(source) I sat beneath the old maple tree, mind transporting,soul cradling memories. What had just become, it could not process.Numbness due to flurrying thoughts.These moths trapped, reeking of recollections so antiqued.Let me free, let me be, cruel Aphrodite. A postcard of Love: the ocean:Deep, ambiguous, spectacular.Calm and comfortable as the sun is red at night.Terrifying, unsettled, as storms rip through its skies. Once I looked into your eyes, passion throughout,I was never the same.Love: your irises composed...
...Can’t you just picture it, Aniela? Me, walking down the aisle, in this beautiful gown made by... Dior, I believe it is? His gowns are brilliant, though that tight waist may be a bit of a...
Grandad always said that his office was “off-limits.” The door was always kept shut, the knots in the wood glaring at me every time I walked by. He never told me why I couldn’t go in. He had never told...