Category Archives

Archive of posts published in the category: prose

the witch of the aegean sea

I want to tell you a story about a short stout woman who lived on the island of Lemnos in the Aegean Sea. She fished barefoot next to her shadow just before the sun found her copper face and presented her to the…

unfurl

i am unfurled unwrapped by life’s hardships, joys and mysteries. without understanding why, i have lived without a name.   Unfurl

mortal words

i’ve decided that i don’t want to write, not with my hands anyway. i want to think words onto paper and screens and leaves and stones and skies. i want words to fall onto the sand and clay soil, carved into ice and…

i am the stream…

i am the stream… of consciousness. it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means it is the day when i want to forget the days and seconds and step into infinity, the…

save words

i will save words for you. bottled and pickled words for you. then feed you synonyms of me, so you will always remember my taste. i will flavor your life until all your tongue remembers is what it is was like to come…to…

satchel of poems

I had a satchel filled with poems that I tossed into the sea. I wrote them on tiny circles and squares and rectangles woven with jute, some in permanent gold ink, others lovingly stitched on over the course of many sunrises and sunsets.…

ink spill

I spilled ink across the blank pages of my notebook. It was then that I decided to write stories with my fingers.

the words spill

The words spill from my pen, blood red, no longer wanting to be ink, but to be life. The words follow me into my dreams. There, I am sky bound. Landing is a matter of chance.

existence remembered

The words leave, drifting atop my misconceptions. I am looking backwards. Why did we come here? Was it only to see if being human was a strange fad, something new for our soul to do? Or was it something real and lasting and…

parallel universe

In the space of memory resides the fence we stand atop, teetering on the edge between hard ground and water. In that space we remember the moments that embrace us before we have a chance to embrace them. They catch us unaware and…

your lies

Your lies won’t save you from death. You will die anyway. Death is the great truth teller. When it comes, all you will know in that moment is the truth; which is, you will soon be gone, into the wind, into oblivion, into…

the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones…

split apart

i am split apart, opened wide like the Nile and equally as filled with memories of life and death and history flowing through ancient cities. i am the woman in the dunes, waiting. always waiting for the sand to give birth to life…

the Pitkin Review published the highway

The Spring 2017 issue of Goddard College’s peer-reviewed literary journal, The Pitkin Review, has arrived in the mail! My story, The Highway, is looking mighty sexy on page 9. Grab a copy: http://blogs.goddard.edu/pitkin

edible lover

I have an edible lover. We intertwine, this lover and I. We meld and spill like a waterfall into each other. We become…

authentic

Strong, sturdy hips receive hungry thrusts. Authentic sex is not for the weak. Fainting hearts are not welcome here. Moans crescendo, vibrating leaves and rippling rivers. Bodies transform, like werewolves under a hunter’s moon. Two bodies cast a single shadow upon the leaves,…

do not look for me here

If one day you desire to find me, don’t look for me here. Search for me in the quiet space, that place where only you and I can dwell. There will be no more hunger for my body but instead a hunger for…

the clouds in prayer

The clouds interlace fingers seeking prayer, an impassioned supplication to the un-gods.  They spread across skies gathering stories of un-time, spaces inside cycles that collect memories we will never touch, nor taste. Nor see. Clouds beseech the un-gods, begging for intervention. But the…

see

we are here to see the impossible sometimes through the night other times through the rain we must see inside self see inside the places we’ve forgotten exist

un-yesterday

There is nothing here. Only waves of memories folding over unrelenting experiences. I will no longer question my thoughts, but instead, carve question marks into stones; and diamonds and gold. Carve them into clouds and raindrops and the wind. My footprints will become…

Archives

Categories

recent incantations

  • edible lover
    I have an edible lover. We intertwine, this lover and […]
  • a quiet world
    I am halfheartedly searching for a road back to Earth. […]

unique visitors

  • 8,200 hits

Visitors online - 6

error: Content is protected !!