Tag Archives: stories

In Our Solitude

Near to the bones of warming solitude. Within vagrancy’s timelocked spells we wander you could say we are wanderstruck. Modes of lyrical living allows us to bask in living alone in the company of words stories voices. For them we … Continue reading

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Company of Echoes

Near to the bones of warming solitude we wildly graze. We are out here in this place where our vagrancies are enabled by the mass grace of words stories voices that roots us home. At home with solitude we are … Continue reading

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To No End

Texts to be read aloud inside your head while no one is listening. This one of the directives we received. We also heard Your ears may start to burn as if a forest fire is burning inside your head a … Continue reading

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Proofs

Once upon a time is a necessary mirage. Flesh born of word and bones fulfilling myth. Stories are the means to endlessness. They go on and on. We go on and on carried along by stories carrying within them the … Continue reading

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Holy Dark

In the dark I tell myself stories cycling through different guises different spells and guesses to sublimate an existential itch I cannot scratch. In batches the words arrive wingless like immigrants from distant shores. I go there hungover from daily … Continue reading

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The Gift

Within the scarry stories of the heart lived a little girl with no actual name who gave stars as playthings to all her imaginary friends.

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Fireflies

All these stories– Fireflies in a garden, on a moonless night.

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Practice Run

To get ready, daily, for the stories inside, the voices, yet never losing sight of the fact that they are phantoms skating on waves, and to hold on would be like trying to clutch and contain sea-spray between your fingers– … Continue reading

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The Bones and the Blue

“I do an awful lot of thinking and dreaming about things in the past and future—the timelessness of the rocks and the hills—all the people who have existed there.  I prefer winter and fall when you feel the bone structure … Continue reading

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Boneyard’s Way

I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. Whether or not they help is either of primary consequence or none at all. Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard in order to reach the garden. This is what I … Continue reading

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