closing for the summerThey say the hardest thing to do, is to force food down a closing throat. But it’s a cycle, shot from a pain-stricken circle, into wider one that interchanges and then disregard the rules of breath.closing for the summer
Turning in sleep, he recalled the evening—a meal, an embrace, and something more, but slumber was pulling him back and forth, and things were fading. And then, he felt the moment: a slight pinch of his chest—the first time he loved, the time he’d killed, the people…
And while I spent the whole night feeling as if I was going to suffocate inside-out, the morning brought something unexpected, and w
and we, lightour shadows pave night under street lamps and we name stars, for when they shootand we, light
we light cigarettes as our fingers vine together, throbbing knots of heat
freckles of light brown, two like snake bites on the nape of my neck
and the rise of his brow when I turn to accept the honey smoke he has blown my way
25 - 4 - 2007City lights blare across deserted streets25 - 4 - 2007
They hear the heart b e a t of music, flat
and distilled on five a.m. air
Inside thin asbestos w a l l s one mans junk becomes a mother's need sewn tight against channels of dark
12 - 4 - 2007There is night, potent on your lips - and stars being sucked through the gap in your teeth, straight and frosted You wish the sky through words, bitten and old. Your mouth emits cloudy, blue puffs - shapes that suprise.12 - 4 - 2007
There are unspoken words, caught in each bite - the morsel that gets caught in between molars. You exchange words with me. As orange horizons whisper words, that you catch between your lips.
The SurpriseI want to go on vacation, she writes. Somewhere nice.The Surprise
Pen in hand I study my response, nothing more than blue lines on a blank page. A thousand cliches consume me, right down to blood on the margin and the unlimited potential of blank space. I write her name and cross it out, then try again: first in script, next in print, and finally a combination that almost looks natural; she'll never fall for it, I know. She has a way of reading subtle tremors in the rise of the N or the slope of her E, and she can feel my fears through my diction, trapped as I am &nbs
GerryEvery slip that's darkened this floor, a shadowed pile of silk or cotton--some bunched, some coiled, all wrinkled--has reminded me of yours. Perfumed air or perfumed hair, the rustle of heavy damask curtains in fancy hotels, dressing rooms and water beds: you.Gerry
That smooth curve below the navel and just above the lip, the back of a knee in a crowded compartment--very berry liner and glossy kisses on my mirror, my skin--the symptom of your love echoes in shivers, drops leaden in my gut, rises when I'm alone. I've swallowed hints of you during certain years, red or whit
Gutter GrownThe train sliced prosperity, dissecting communities into neat little labels: dark meat and mashed potatoes with carrots on the side, well away from breasts and broccoli. Noon happened differently on cracked sidewalks; people walked in jagged lines, swaying and singing, crying their woes. The lunch hour with its briefcases and pinstripes kept to itself, polite scowls and false faces embarrassed, confronted, comfortable beside manicured trees trapped in grates that hid the rats. The stop once neutral ground, suits clutching coats and staring at paper, mGutter Grown
The DrillHeads down and pencils still: the shutter of dreams through parched lips, stirring to the mutter of shadows, echoes--the cough in the corner or a scrape of nails; drip-drop drip from spilled coffee soaking through papers and a muffled groanThe Drill
when the lights flicker on and the sheets are thrown off, scattered to the floor, trampled by the buzz-buzz bell.
But wait: artificial alarms beget fire drills, the pound and squeak of sneakered feet up the stairs, down--out the doors; shiver for the cold, sweating from the heat--a chill on the horizon and the jump-jump t
One two, skip a few. 
So here's the deal: January is a new month, and a new year, to start over from scratch and remember what Write-Off is ALL about.
And in good ol' Write-Off spirit, we're kicking off the new year with a brand spankin' new competition. Want more information on entering and prizes? Check out the home page.
Now come on, you WriteOffers, you. Show us what you're made of.
Are you IN for January?
Love and be loved,
BA
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*007-WriteOff - Not such a crazy idea after all.
Beware The Scent of Elderberries!
The Most Shagadelic Writing Club Around.
YEAH BABY!
thank you for the comments.
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Inspire - Create - Breathe Words
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Inspire - Create - Breathe Words
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Inspire - Create - Breathe Words
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