Lost and Redemption of a Life Ann WJ White Awakening the morning, waiting for it to rise, I follow a small tortiseshelled cat to her breakfast, carefully apportioned puree of chicken served on a glass dish, glistening. She is the reason for rising, for dancing,…
Category: Miscellaneous
Blackout poetry
Page from Theatre Annual, Americans in Transnational Performance roll dice for first cut, then second, then I cut every other word and fiction bodiliy to one performers such power that being women to not medium fluidity personifications, perspective adoption their for their presence was…
Hour 6 – FORBID
Strangers, sandwiches. Shapes. Friends, fridays. Fabrications. Seduce her, sensualize her. Satisfaction? Love? Labels! Lies! Betrayed. Babblings.. Background.. Murder. Murmur. Melody? Death. Debates. Dampens.
Protected: 6: Beach and Sea
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
The Grace To Blossom, 2nd Hour
2nd Hour The Grace To Blossom He gave me another chance, by grace, to blossom; to breathe again. knowing I would fall, he held the seeds of my new birth, and set them in a dry place. I withered and died. Far from Him,…
2020 Hour 6: Perfect Day
2020 Hour 6: Perfect Day Time-Infinite My wrist watch, high on something sassy and chilling out Using its hands to knit a sweater for the sky And giving the atomic clock the finger. Weather-Cold Breathe in, blow out the chilled air My bare…
Fishing with Jimmy
Brothers on the Bow River on a cool spring day just outside of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Wading up to our knees, we feel the gentle drift of the current and hear the swish of our flyrods. We savor the sweet taste of cigars and watch…
Expand
Note of vetiver Splash of amber Hint of tobacco Breathing in The scent of you My very own Proustian Moment It lingers on my clothes Shoved to the bottom of my laundry basket Unable to be suppressed Sparks play with my synapses Linedancing to my…
Hour 6: Meeting by Chance
Bus stop, 180 degrees from the box office glass and steel framed a waving, a smile. Why not a sunset on an out-cropping of eroded brown clay and gravel? Nothing in the way of the Pacific, the horizon fades to black. We fade to gold…
A Perfect Day – Prompt 6
coffee with cinnamon sunlight drowns the room my favorite dress no underwear no shoes Outside its quiet I only hear the sound of branches swaying and the faint hum of wind chimes I swing in the hammock it carries me like a sunny womb Then…