Category «prose»

spinning

She spin dark brown clay, forming body and mind into soul She spin her child into bird and lion and dolphin and mermaid She then place clay inside her womb and fire it into human, mixed with everything Earth and sky, gift wrapped in gold and silver glittered orange box and purple satin ribbons She …

the unseen spectrum

i am more than the words i speak or write. more than what you see. i am the unseen and unheard ends of the spectrum. i am the invisible that exists, not needing eyes or ears to simply be. i too require instruments to detect my presence in this space. i too can only be …

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 cave walls. i want words to appear on my skin, spinning stories …

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 un-time when will my day come. this is not a question. not …

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 come…to come …into my dreams. and stay a while. a long while. …

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. It may seem foolish, but I believe the fish will read them …

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 another existence, into… Whatever you go into, it will be the ultimate …

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 don’t groan. They hang on to elusive time and love spent dry. …

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 outside of a random oasis.

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, a single shadow spread eagle under star filled skies. Animalistic echoes part …

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