My favorite topic.
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The uncaused cause
Category: Best of 1874
My favorite abecedarian. It has lots of cheats.
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A box
For Karl.
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Maquina lights
A night out with old friends.
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The clink
Currency.
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Abracadabra
Vitality not happiness is the opposite of depression.
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Distraction and Duplicity
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Walking
One of my favorites.
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Frame Jumper
Inspired by AB.
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The Prayer of an Artist
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Expand
A micro story.
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Vignettes
I’m happy to say the nights haven’t felt too large in a long long time.
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Not to write
Let me see . . .
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To my son.
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A Space to Write
What turned out to be a premonition.
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Because
The way the words are ordered are up to me. They don’t have to be in lanes. They don’t have to go forward.
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Love
If we only meet On the other side If our link’s forged Strong Here Then, I shall do that careful work. (Because forever is something else.)
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A wooden Apple
I am taking a beginning oil painting class at the Smithsonian. The first night I painted a wooden apple.
The Subject Rainbows galore. They infiltrated my neural network this week. The Method It’s not an abecedarian sequence but like it. Treating the rainbow like a mosaic or visual found poetry, I found instances of each color in photographs I already had. There are different textures (you can see) and magnifications (not as clear to […]
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Awakenings (or food problems)
In your food there is a heavy draught drugging horse. The others chitter chatter spoon it up. Danger in eggs and potatoes in broth. Circle The bowl looking for flesh. Wary. I watch. Do they eat with impunity? The gut recoils. Only dry pasta for me. No room to Hide in subsistence living. Water please, […]
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elegy no. 2
The me clothed in cheap rat cotton (to breathe the skin) Walks stiff inside voluminously talking. Squinting, straining, blinking. “Sit yourself down, girl, please,” She’d say. “Knock me down,” I’d plead inside. Give Me a heavy draught so I’ll be like swimming in An ocean instead of splashing in a Bathtub.
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The insolence of Spring
Alaska’s blinding cold devolves evenly forging golden hues, insolence. January knows long might, night’s occupancy, pulse’s questions. Rest, solitude. Quiet rivers steal torrents. Unearthed valiance wields (e)xoneration, yellow zinnias. This is an Abecedarian sequence built around the word Alaska. The featured image is a photograph of a flower (not a zinnia) taken by me and […]
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Poetry Cheat Sheet
I am not a poet, but I was convinced last year that writing poetry was good writerly exercise. Cross-training, if you will. Writing poetry in prescribed verse can range from an exciting adventure in wordsmithing to a creative puzzle relaxing your mind before you float off to sleep at night. Words have meaning. Words have sounds. […]
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Elegy No. 1
Will I come to your side when you are no longer in my arms needing? I try though it feels stilted like cotton is in your ears. Sweet small boy that you were, molded to me like a sloth on a tree, Now you are tall and knobby like a young sapling: proud, no bend. […]
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On the topic of travel
At the whim of my elders I dangled on the travel. To the ends of the earth I was tasked, though I knew I’d unravel. They packed me on a plane. Jet lag left me insane. I drank wine every night and caroused and was graveled. Here is a limerick for the Writing 201 journey/limerick/alliteration […]
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Brown / Water
A brown coat hangs in A dark closet absorbing Dust. Will water help Or steam or fire? He Looks at her with all the words In his eyes. She hears And cries into the Soil. She thinks it will cleanse it Somehow some way. When? I will have to back into the brevity of a […]
The Blacklight Candelabra says: There’s much in nature that the naked eye can’t perceive without assistance . . . It shows us the magnified eye of a fly, which looks nothing like you would think an eye would look and challenges us to: Use words to accomplish similar revelations through magnification. I chose as a […]
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Box of Abecedarian Sequences
The Blacklight Candelabra challenges us to re-imagine a box of chocolates in writing form. A collection of unique and separate [writing] forms a greater whole. One rarely finds a single small piece of [writing] that ascends to the heights that the variety provides. I had been thinking for some time of putting the Abecedarian Sequences into a visual art form. […]
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The Living
When I was a kid I was afraid of lava. I felt it was an imminent danger. At any minute I might encounter lava. Lava has recently come into my four year old son’s life, probably the same way it must have come into mine: school. Somehow he found out about lava and now when we cross […]
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Learning to listen, learning to wait
After doing my first interview as a practice in long form writing, I was inspired to make a mosaic of my subject. I first started this blog to practice writing, thinking I would focus on the personal essay. Over the past couple of months, though, I have been experimenting with other things, like writing on […]
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(a brave calm darkens)
A brave calm darkens even fear. God harvests ideas, judgments, keys. Living miracles need only prayer, quandaries. Relaxing saves trembling, unarmed. Votive worlds (e)xonerate yesterday’s zealotry. This is an Abecedarian sequence. The featured image is “Study of Hands” by Leonardo Da Vinci sketched in 1474. The original work can be found in the Royal Collection, […]
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A curtain drops
To wake hellbent, the maelstrom funneled head: Inside “(no)” a curtain drops. But I say, “I’m okay now.” (The small deceits.) Instead Of, “See, the grey sky’s fraught? Rain’s on its way?” Ignored I am by me against my will. Self prison grows up hate to wind up thought. “Sleep snug smug shits” and sundry […]
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(taboo)
Abundance breeds colony drones, earnest foragers, Goldenrods. Humming in jealousy, knowing lore’s manners, none of puberty quiet remains. Swarming (taboo) understands vacillation (wings), (x)centric yellow zones. This is an Abecedarian sequence. The featured image is “Self Portrait With Arm Twisting Above Head” by Egon Schiele painted in 1910. All work by Schiele (1890-1918) is in […]
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(A writer)
Ava bends cold dreams. Ever (forever) glad hands, in June, kindly light masterful nearness. Oh, prose quite rarely sits. The unbent visions would (e)xonerate yet zest. This is an Abecedarian sequence. The featured image is “Portrait of the writer N.B. Nordman-Severova” by Ilya Repin painted in 1905. All work by Repin (1844-1930) is in the […]
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A parentheses more like
I thought, “I will abandon this car, this Hulking piece of metal. It won’t keep me Prisoner. I have legs, after all, I’m Made of flesh and bone, after all.” So I
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A full square meal
They say to make the most of every day While youth says, wait, I move to squander years Youth loathes the dawn, when demons tend to appear In brown forms, they fly tugging at the scalp
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Le Gourmet (The Greedy Child)
I feel tingly in my hands and toes to think of tiptoeing down the hallway, down the stairs, into the kitchen for the fridge. Rarely do I undertake such a thrilling journey, knowing there is the darkness and the creaking floors and perhaps I will happen upon mice meeting up in three’s. I wouldn’t want […]
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The Marathon
I would not call myself a runner and neither would most anybody. I’m not really built for running of any type, neither sprinting nor long distance. I ran a marathon once, though. I got the idea from an advertisement at Marvelous Market near my building. It said anyone could run a marathon.
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Part V: My Soul Echoes
We lasted 9 months in the deep burbs before we decided to move back. It took 4 months to sell our house. We lived in a furnished apartment for 3 more months in our old neighborhood in Arlington before we bought the house we live in now. I was ecstatic to be back in the old ‘hood and my old yoga […]
I got pregnant. I wanted to more than anything, but I was shocked by it all the same. I stopped yoga and all physical exercise as soon as I found out and was on bed rest for two months as well. I went back to yoga when my son was 4 weeks old and practiced […]
What I did next was surprising, in retrospect, and wholly self propelled. I had mistaken my soul stretching into my body for and end in itself.
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Part II: I see a flower
I stayed in the forest for 9 years. Indeed, I lost my way. Just when I had given up all hope, I happened upon the path again, as though no time had passed.
I should have been a philoligist, like Nietzsche. I always want to know the etymology of words thinking it will clear everything up, but it never really does.
Exhibition 1874 