Tag: prose poetry

Night-time Language #1

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I The Cleansing Walking down a corridor, the ticking of a pendulum on either side of me. There are doors – lots of them. Each one represents one of the stories I’m working on. I can walk through any of them right now and it will show me the world. I do not choose; a… Continue reading Night-time Language #1

Splinters (I-III)

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I Gymnastics of the brain Bending around depressive lump Avatars and faces disfigured, mixed up. Animus N (form of Ash) dances in the ocean. Completely out of character and yet inevitable, as all things are in this place. A serious tone with a playful finish, as though folly would be the only [forceful] eternal survivor.… Continue reading Splinters (I-III)

Entries #6

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I am with Anaïs Nin; writing is intrinsically linked to flow. There is no blockage that cannot be cured by visiting a body of water. By submerging. I lie in a hot bath until words are pouring from me and I can stand it no more. I wrote much of Mind in the Gap in… Continue reading Entries #6

Kaleidoscope

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We see the artist is lost in fragments. She sits on bare floorboards, surrounded by shards of broken mirror, cut up poetry and painted [interrupted] images of mandalas. Only the back of her head is visible while she chooses her face. The pieces, of course, could be put together in any number of configurations and… Continue reading Kaleidoscope

Journal Sequence #17: Chaotic Wave [Papier-mâché Devil]

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I’m falling anyway. Back to the ground. Face the sky, clouds cover the sun [sin]. Black buildings morph into wobbly paint streaks. Obscure. Empty space. The reappearance of the weaver. Old scents, new memories. The feel of my brush against the canvas, my pen upon the page, steadily [frantically] creating a new reality before I… Continue reading Journal Sequence #17: Chaotic Wave [Papier-mâché Devil]

Journal Sequence #16: TV for a Head [discourse]

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Tired of all this noise in language I don’t understand. I try the tongue, even carry it for a while, then realise they were never saying what I thought. Layers deep this symbolism, these insinuations. Playing a game that never existed on my home world. Long for it now. Reach for it with both hands,… Continue reading Journal Sequence #16: TV for a Head [discourse]

Parallel #6: Fade

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Whatever happened to chasing rainbows? Bare-footed stumbles in the dead of night, asphalt and glass and gum. Gazing at stars and laughing till we couldn’t breathe. Exposing their lies. They never knew us. We were the only ones. Nostalgia at the end of the moon. Rows of possible suitors in indigo as deep as it… Continue reading Parallel #6: Fade

Journal Sequence #15: 99% of Him [elixir]

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I Images of an upside-down world, where I am not as I appear here but only half. The other, upside-down, half is Holm built from fragments, and together we look like a playing card. Do I need to let him write? Go on, take the pen. Kammarheit. A sticky table in the bar. A pint.… Continue reading Journal Sequence #15: 99% of Him [elixir]

Parallel #5: [Dis]array / Onset

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CW: Self harm Me, with fresh cuts all over both arms. Sitting calmly. Feel the pain. The connection. The flow. I didn’t understand the disease like he did. He’d lived with it far too long, knew the consequences and the natural conclusion. Put yourself out of your misery, his eyes begged. I can’t handle the… Continue reading Parallel #5: [Dis]array / Onset

Parallel #4: Widdershins

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A giant spider with a girl’s head sidles up the embankment We know about her Kicking up the dust Making sculptures from time Keep the ghosts of memory close Surround yourself with images Representations of security Jaded Going backwards now Fragments and then fullness Return from the swarm of bats Widdershins Sounds so sinister But… Continue reading Parallel #4: Widdershins