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Friday, August 17, 2012. I sit here thinking I should write in dread of stepping outside the room to find nothing exists. Dance me to the end of love.". Leonard Cohen, "I'm Your Man". Last Tango in Paris". The crib notes we sneak through time are written in disappearing ink.". Andre Aciman, Alibis: Essays on Elsewhere. We were about to do our final dance. It involved leaning down, and taking a mouthful of dirt. I looked at you. You had already begun. And you were crying. Posted by YourFireAnt at 10:18 AM.

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YourFireAnt | fireantville.blogspot.com Reviews

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Friday, August 17, 2012. I sit here thinking I should write in dread of stepping outside the room to find nothing exists. Dance me to the end of love.. Leonard Cohen, I'm Your Man. Last Tango in Paris. The crib notes we sneak through time are written in disappearing ink.. Andre Aciman, Alibis: Essays on Elsewhere. We were about to do our final dance. It involved leaning down, and taking a mouthful of dirt. I looked at you. You had already begun. And you were crying. Posted by YourFireAnt at 10:18 AM.

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1 yourfireant

2 how it happens

3 david ignatow

4 no names

5 3 comments

6 new chapbook

7 by clicking here

8 enjoy

9 5 comments

10 today's list

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YourFireAnt | fireantville.blogspot.com Reviews

https://fireantville.blogspot.com

Friday, August 17, 2012. I sit here thinking I should write in dread of stepping outside the room to find nothing exists. Dance me to the end of love.". Leonard Cohen, "I'm Your Man". Last Tango in Paris". The crib notes we sneak through time are written in disappearing ink.". Andre Aciman, Alibis: Essays on Elsewhere. We were about to do our final dance. It involved leaning down, and taking a mouthful of dirt. I looked at you. You had already begun. And you were crying. Posted by YourFireAnt at 10:18 AM.

INTERNAL PAGES

fireantville.blogspot.com

1

YourFireAnt

http://fireantville.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-your-letter-came-i-reached-for.html

Thursday, August 05, 2010. When your letter came. Later on, I squirmed in my chair at the desk,writing, skirt adhered to varnished wood, and suddenly he was there. Like those whispery sounds heard in closets, the flashes in peripheral vision as I round a corner, faint muttering late at night. His passing leaves a little phumpf. Posted by YourFireAnt at 9:54 AM. I love the way it reads. I need more time to understand how it makes me feel. Its exquisitely well-done. Id kill for your talent. I went back and...

2

YourFireAnt: September 2007

http://fireantville.blogspot.com/2007_09_01_archive.html

Tuesday, September 11, 2007. I found it nearly impossible to write this because every time I started the area bounded by ribs, clavicles, spine, and shoulder blades would fill up with floury dough set to rise in a back pantry in the sun. When my kid brother had a heart attack at 40, my father's hand reached out across 30 years, and squeezed my own heart inside the pickets of my ribs. The day I heard of my father's death my chest and stomach filled up with grief and I couldn't eat or weep for three days.

3

YourFireAnt

http://fireantville.blogspot.com/2012/08/how-it-happens-poetry-workshop-taught.html

Friday, August 17, 2012. I sit here thinking I should write in dread of stepping outside the room to find nothing exists. Dance me to the end of love.". Leonard Cohen, "I'm Your Man". Last Tango in Paris". The crib notes we sneak through time are written in disappearing ink.". Andre Aciman, Alibis: Essays on Elsewhere. We were about to do our final dance. It involved leaning down, and taking a mouthful of dirt. I looked at you. You had already begun. And you were crying. Posted by YourFireAnt at 10:18 AM.

4

YourFireAnt

http://fireantville.blogspot.com/2009/12/to-my-brother-who-left-without-saying.html

Monday, December 21, 2009. To my brother, who left without saying goodbye. What did it sound like when you fell? How loud the thud. That reverberated off the gym walls all the rest of that night must have been. When you hit the floor, already dead they said, the force broke your nose, spattered blood across your face and soaked your mustache. What were you thinking when that stuttering heartbeat took your breath away, and started to take you down? Did you have a second's lucid shock? Im so very sorry.

5

YourFireAnt

http://fireantville.blogspot.com/2008/10/clover-drying-sweet-woodruff-thanks-for.html

Thursday, October 23, 2008. Clover drying, sweet woodruff. And grip the phone helplessly, trying to force the logic of intensity onto a situation nobody knows anything about. But there's no good way to do it, not even a bad way. Loss powders me with its dust, a moth flapping against the screen, schwush. Finishing a poem is like trying to land a plane. The desired quiet touching down collides with an ultimate updraft of feeling, and in the background, the flying glass, foaming bleeding wounds, and sha...

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speakingforsarah.blogspot.com

Speaking for Sarah: Loss, Once More

http://speakingforsarah.blogspot.com/2013/03/loss-once-more.html

Musings of a distracted daughter of the big city. Sunday, March 31, 2013. Loss, Once More. Posted by Sarah Sometimes at 11:39 AM. Oh, I am so sorry. I am so so sorry! Good thing you were able to be with him on those last days (probably not very good for you and your memories of him). I dont really know what else to say except that Im sorry. Losing a loved one is just heartbreaking. :(. Thank you, all, for the kind thoughts. I am so sorry. Thank you, Jodi. Links to this post:. New York, New York.

speakingforsarah.blogspot.com

Speaking for Sarah: A Halloween Story (not Scary)

http://speakingforsarah.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-halloween-story-not-scary.html

Musings of a distracted daughter of the big city. Saturday, November 01, 2014. A Halloween Story (not Scary). Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo, and also of the month in which Thanksgiving occurs. So, a good time to get back to writing here, and also to thinking about gratitude. I have no plans to write a novel, but perhaps I can at least share a few thoughts every day. Gratitude, for starters. Hey, what's up? Are you giving out candy tonight? Are you getting any kids there? The grocery clerk was still...

brittleroad.blogspot.com

Brittle Road: Dark Night of the Soul

http://brittleroad.blogspot.com/2010/06/dark-night-of-soul.html

Tuesday, June 1, 2010. Dark Night of the Soul. A friend told me I was going through a dark night of the soul. That's her explanation for the way I've been feeling lately. Dissatisfied, alone, wishing I could pin down what's on my mind that's making me feel morose and disconnected and acutely aware of the fact that I don't matter. She told me it's one of the toughest things I'll ever go through. That's a scary thought. June 2, 2010 at 5:42 PM. Im suspicious that I may just be mildly depressed and letting ...

brittleroad.blogspot.com

Brittle Road: The Death of Creativity

http://brittleroad.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-death-of-creativity.html

Wednesday, August 22, 2012. The Death of Creativity. These last two, and now three, days my right ankle has been sufficiently angry at me to prevent me from talking my usual morning walks. Instead, I have tried to return to creative writing, posting little bits and pieces of stream-of-consciousness writing here. As I read what I have written, the fog in my brain begins to lift and reveal the desolate landscape it has been attempting to hide. Let's see, what other useless crap can I write about? I thought...

brittleroad.blogspot.com

Brittle Road: Listening to the Emerging Morning

http://brittleroad.blogspot.com/2012/08/listening-to-emerging-morning.html

Sunday, August 26, 2012. Listening to the Emerging Morning. For the second morning in a row, I awoke late, though this morning I was up before 5:30. Yesterday, it was after 6:00 before I got out of bed. This is odd for me, in that I'm normally up before 4:45. While there is very little traffic, most of the cars I see seem to be operating urgently. They speed by as if their drivers are consumed with FOCUS on the destination.time's-a-wasting and I gotta get to my church service! Subscribe in a reader.

brittleroad.blogspot.com

Brittle Road: Toying with the Internet

http://brittleroad.blogspot.com/2013/09/toying-with-internet.html

Monday, September 23, 2013. Toying with the Internet. It has been a year since I abandoned this blog in favor of a new one. I had aspirations, I did! My new blog would coincide with a new me. The mindless chatter of Brittle Road. Would be left behind, and good riddance! I would begin a new life, a life far more interesting that the life I led and shared on Brittle Road. The paragraphs above might suggest the reason for this post, don't you think? Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Subscribe in a reader.

speakingforsarah.blogspot.com

Speaking for Sarah: Upstate Yoga

http://speakingforsarah.blogspot.com/2014/11/upstate-yoga.html

Musings of a distracted daughter of the big city. Tuesday, November 04, 2014. Here's a post for Day Three of Nanowrimo, barely under the wire (having missed Day Two). Today I went to work, got quite a bit done for five or six hours, barely stopping for lunch, then went out at around 3:30 for a walk in the soft, gray November afternoon, which was not as cold as it looked from inside. Posted by Sarah Sometimes at 12:34 AM. Q: Can anyone tell me the difference between K2 and IQ? A: Nthn. In Seventh-Heav...

speakingforsarah.blogspot.com

Speaking for Sarah: Insomnia Rules

http://speakingforsarah.blogspot.com/2005/08/insomnia-rules.html

Musings of a distracted daughter of the big city. Tuesday, August 23, 2005. Actually there was even another name before Sarah, a name that was officially on my birth certificate and then changed. I'll save that one for later, perhaps- but that one was changed because of my grandmother's objections. I feel compassion for my mother, now, long after her death, that she had to endure everyone's well-meaning or not so well-meaning interventions. My ruminations on the infuriating and joyous city that I live in?

nopolar.blogspot.com

No Polar Coordinates: March 2015

http://nopolar.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html

An unthemed blog of thoughts and mutterings. Join me for a few mutterings of your own. This is my "master" blog, through which you can access all my other blogs and websites. I hope you'll leave a comment when you visit! Monday, March 23, 2015. My traveling Mole has returned! I've got my Moleskine back and I want to thank you all for your lovely art. So fun looking through this. When I finish the blank pages, of which there aren't many, we'll hopefully post a video. Thursday, March 05, 2015. In Blue Ink ...

outwithari.blogspot.com

Adventures With Ari: Life as a Canine Naturalist: June 2009

http://outwithari.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html

Adventures With Ari: Life as a Canine Naturalist. Sunday, June 28, 2009. Upstate New York has a lot going for it. There are wineries and pastureland, historical sites aplenty, and plump squirrels just asking to be chased by charismatic young canine naturalists. The real hidden treat of the region for both of us, though, were the innumerable gorges and glens tucked into hillsides and anchoring many a state park. We did our best to hike as many as our days allowed. There's a certain timeless energy to the ...

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YourFireAnt

Friday, August 17, 2012. I sit here thinking I should write in dread of stepping outside the room to find nothing exists. Dance me to the end of love.". Leonard Cohen, "I'm Your Man". Last Tango in Paris". The crib notes we sneak through time are written in disappearing ink.". Andre Aciman, Alibis: Essays on Elsewhere. We were about to do our final dance. It involved leaning down, and taking a mouthful of dirt. I looked at you. You had already begun. And you were crying. Posted by YourFireAnt at 10:18 AM.

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