Narrative, Observations, People, Reflection

Write to Live: Orange Hyundai

With thanks to "Classy Cars" https://bit.ly/2uJhSorA familiar vehicle paused next to my Pontiac as I lingered at the traffic-light where MD-650 crosses MD-198. From the open window of a burnt-orange Veloster, a hand dangled with a cigarette pinched between two fingers. Full recognition came a second later: it was my ex-girlfriend's ex-husband. The confluences that… Continue reading Write to Live: Orange Hyundai

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Meta-fictionality, Narrative, Reflection

Write to Live: Green Torches

When I was eighteen, I wrote a short-story based on a nightmare. I fled a large man with a sword in and out of doorways, through tunnels, up ladders onto scaffolds (and jumping down again), in an endless maze. The fiction has a distinct beginning and an ending. The story evolved to include a cell,… Continue reading Write to Live: Green Torches

Observations

Write to Live: A Log on Primeval Trail

Hurtling logs is a semiotic act, for me. I jumped over logs in the thinner forests of spring, pretending I wore T'Challa's skin instead of my own and pacing my heart with drum-music. Summer and new strategies ushered a new cycle of activity, a new trail to run and the bodily impetus to rise earlier… Continue reading Write to Live: A Log on Primeval Trail

Analysis, Memories, Reflection

Write to Live: Musician’s Intuition

I want to unpack this notion of "writing to live", presently. It cannot be a hollow, "just do it", reductionist-species of motivational phrase. This fresh axiom also needs separated from another, superficially-similar suggestion to "write like your life depends upon it." These two sentences come from different poetics. To write as if my entire life… Continue reading Write to Live: Musician’s Intuition

Memories, Poetry, Reflection

The Fires of June

The ember in my core seeded my body, as if blue flames reached like trees from the stubble along my neck, spinal ridges, the crests of my shoulders. I am a land of fire, again relishing the sensation of burning as I stare into backyard flames -- flashing orange in the company of friends. I… Continue reading The Fires of June

Memories, Observations, Poetry, Reflection

Impressions & Images (#1?)

Like a swarm of jellyfish afloat in a swell, an uncountable glut of balloons offer trailing threads of many colors and rise away. If I grab the blue string, will I need to gather every thread of that hue to succeed at blues? Or must I make bundles of rainbow colors, yet miss the bulbs of indigo I cannot see?