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Pure Mud: Real Picture Thinkers
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014/11/real-picture-thinkers.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Sunday, November 23, 2014. I dreamed that the shadows were poltergeists. The shadows reach out and wrap their limbless limbs generata into themselves. There's darker darkness, almost red, reeling in their chests. Inspired by a classmate's Soma(tic). Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Rachel Maria Məráj Davis. Dum spiro spero. DFTBA. View my complete profile. Upcoming Prose Contest Deadlines. Tightrope to the Sun. Come So Far - -. Amanda Michelle Smith : Ceramic Artist.
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Pure Mud: July 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Tuesday, July 8, 2014. We have yet to exit. The white lights glare sickly off the tiles plastering the station wall. I can almost make out my reflection in them. The crooked squares angle me into two-by-two sections. I crane my neck and watch the left half of my face push into other tiles. Imagine my brain rippling through the grout and snapping back into cubes. Across the platform an ad proclaims WHAT IF SEEING EACH OTHER AGAIN CHANGED EVERYTHING? Beams between their fingertips.
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Pure Mud: May 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_05_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Tuesday, May 20, 2014. For a moment I was lost in expansion. Monday, May 5, 2014. I want to call you,. Wake you up to say. In your sleepy breathing. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). For a moment I was lost in expansion. Dum spiro spero. DFTBA. View my complete profile. Upcoming Prose Contest Deadlines. Tightrope to the Sun. Can I Use a Photograph of Scarlett Johansson on the Cover of My E-Book? Come So Far - -. Amanda Michelle Smith : Ceramic Artist.
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Pure Mud: February 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_02_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Monday, February 24, 2014. Raised head to stare at the sun. With closed eyes, the sky falls. In pockets of green glass. We would not linger fixed. For so long. We would not. Open our mouths to singe. Our throats into submission. I sat on the doorstep. For an hour, filling my jeans. With crushed yellow leaves. I waited for you in the dawn,. Filled up limb by limb. With stagnant blood. Fill. Me up with sunlight and I would. See red for all of color, laid sliver. The shittiest tac...
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Pure Mud: October 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_10_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Wednesday, October 29, 2014. The fire burns a static air—. The water sticks in chaliced flames, elbow to elbow. Gray and warm Saturdays. Ablaze in gasoline and cardboard. Somewhere it stops—forearm to ankle,. Spray to neck and shoulder—. Strategy in asphalt encourages. Men saying, "Oh, blessed be, blessed be.". Hands raised like offerings to the silhouetted robins. Dropping out of skies, egg by blue. Eye watching from the pump. She's quiet, hands on her knees,. All in the rear-...
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Pure Mud: December 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_12_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Sunday, December 28, 2014. Friday, December 12, 2014. Like No One Came. October morning, first snow drifted. Across the wood-grain window sills. On eastern walls. Ice coated tree limbs,. But the sky still felt watercolor. A picture of summer in liquid amber. There shouldn't have been snow;. The roads still lay in black bands. On their sides, waiting instead. For simple rain. But waves beat. Like a dusk in the sunlight. Now and then the breeze whipped. My skirt back and licked me.
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Pure Mud: To Myself Who Loved a God (draft 1)
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014/12/to-myself-who-loved-god.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Monday, December 1, 2014. To Myself Who Loved a God (draft 1). If I believed that angels licked. The corners of my book pages,. Maybe I’d believe in divination. As a gradient of godliness. But you run away. From your own words. I wish I could find that god. You said knows. That she is. You stare into the sun,. But you tell yourself not. To watch your cornea burn. You could walk, incarnate. A god. Barefoot on concrete, toes. Guttered with rainbow water,. Before the sun can rise.
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Pure Mud: Like No One Came
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014/12/like-no-one-came.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Friday, December 12, 2014. Like No One Came. October morning, first snow drifted. Across the wood-grain window sills. On eastern walls. Ice coated tree limbs,. But the sky still felt watercolor. A picture of summer in liquid amber. There shouldn't have been snow;. The roads still lay in black bands. On their sides, waiting instead. For simple rain. But waves beat. Like a dusk in the sunlight. Now and then the breeze whipped. My skirt back and licked me. In heated pleas of oh God.
puremud.blogspot.com
Pure Mud
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014/12/i-do-not-always-look-when-it-snows.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Sunday, December 28, 2014. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I do not always look when it snows. I fear it will. Like No One Came. From Rachel, I learned the fine points of stars. . 8220;scraping out the stinger” Satisfaction of gathe. To Myself Who Loved a God (draft 1). Dum spiro spero. DFTBA. View my complete profile. Upcoming Prose Contest Deadlines. Tightrope to the Sun. Can I Use a Photograph of Scarlett Johansson on the Cover of My E-Book? Come So Far - -.
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Pure Mud: April 2014
http://puremud.blogspot.com/2014_04_01_archive.html
Fall, breathe. Rise still. Wednesday, April 16, 2014. She wishes moon-lit skies not linger on,. To bring her mind relief and startle open. Her sleepy eyes with fated sunlight's dawn. The stars come prick her pupils wide again. For her to heft them higher in foamy skies. And let them see themselves. She tires to wake. And carry reddened giants in her eyes. The night to pass for beauty's tired sake. She leaves the flickers neath her wings alone. That some may pleasure take upon their breath—.
