Tag Archives: art

Wellspring

Through the grace of repetition, the writing life grounded in the slow, wistful measures of wellspring’s fortune. Advertisements

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Monster

Fiction is a monster. It demands, it consumes. It is a glutton. Enough is never enough. It won’t be satisfied until the unreal becomes utterly real, beyond real. Its sole desire is to usurp reality, to surpass it. It basks … Continue reading

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Of Time and the River

   One thing we cannot recover is time.    Perhaps that’s what I have been trying to do.    Perhaps that’s what every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a heartsick orphan, as the fool-hero in their own movie is … Continue reading

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Quest

One thing we cannot recover is time. And perhaps every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a fool-hero on a desperate quest, sets himself this glorious, impossible task, the solvent recovery of time through the mortal fetters of a merciful … Continue reading

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Measure

A sense of removal raveled in intimacy and ghostly union, a sense of closeness achieved on the periphery where fools dance an impossible jig to fulfill absence.

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The Writing Life

Pen, referencing a glossary of soul, scratches out excess to clarify Eternity, finger-holds, tenuous at best, dignify the mount of a marvelously impossible task.

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Birds

By whirling reams of papered birds, the writer’s flights, short-lived, earn the keep of dreams daringly emptied.

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Balm

To write a poem that demands nothing from anyone else, truly asks for nothing, except to become, is the purest placeholder for the Muse’s proferred balm.    

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Mist

There will come a day when, unplugged and remote, you dissolve and slip gently between the veils, so much mist needed for mourning’s soft focus into grave clarity.

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Three Musicians

To birth visual sound, mortals shaped into music– painter’s brush with fame.

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