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Tag Archives: labyrinth
In the Beginning, Fiction
Now you say no more words but you don’t really mean no more words, these dreams of going wordless are playthings in the air, concepts without volition. You are compelled to use words to express what it would be like … Continue reading
In the Catacombs of Grief
In the catacombs of grief, she wandered. She wandered, without thirst, without hunger. This frightened her. Had she lost her basic humanity? Why had she created such elaborate labyrinths? Say that ten times fast, she said to herself. At least … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged catacombs, creation, fragment, grief, labyrinth, moodspells, Prose, wandeirng woman, writer
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Come Wander With Me
She, from a young age, understood that she possessed an interiority complex. That, no matter where she went, all roads lead back to herself, to the worlds within. I don’t exist out there, not really. Out there, I am … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fragment, interiority complex, internal jounrye, labyrinth, Prose, wandering
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House of Mystery
In the house of mystery, dreamers enter the fold. It is a world of myriads. Of what-ifs. Undulating layers. In the house of mystery, expect no answers. None are forthcoming. In the house of mystery, dreamers will experience cataclysmic inversions. … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fables, forests, house of mystery, labyrinth, mirrorless, Prose, revelations
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The Lighthouse and the Labyrinth
A thousand and one labyrinths, maybe more, filled with the lost and forlorn, weeping, yet never losing sight of the hidden lighthouse, that favored legend of which rumors have prevailed, to guide the dreamers, in the way that secrets whisper … Continue reading
Glistening
It is sudden, this life, a billowing pop-up tent for the quick and the dead. And how true that, its frayed denouements of thread lead you back and back again through that labyrinth, its spool of yarn the ravels of … Continue reading
Anais Nin
Invention was your solitude, your twin, wasn’t it, Miss Nin? The way you spread secret pages like silk violet capes, like fringed shawls, over an air of mystery, and err of desire. You enabled symmetry, to confess. Why couldn’t a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
Tagged anais nin, Beauty, creative process, diary, dreams, invention, John Biscello, labyrinth, literature, poem, Poetry, tribute, woman, writer, writer's life
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