The Wabi-Sabi Writer

Today begins my quest to write a novel in a month.  50K words in 30 days.  I am starting this endeavor hot on the heels of a intense poetry project so I had minimal if any mindspace to plan my novel - I will be a pantser scribe - writing as the words flow (and may they flow with inspiration and ease).  Towards this end I have lured my critic into a sealed (and padded) room with the promises of copious foil wrapped...

My words were but a litter of letters all tiny timid and tremblingYearning to be coaxed out of hiding and nuzzled Safe and seen in the silence They wriggle and purrEntertaining possibilities once unsaid nowRunning wild around the roomI want to play with themOur glaring truthsUnfold Secret tailsAcrostic poem based on today's final prompt OctPoWriMo 2017 Day 31Image Courtesy of The IPKat&nbs...

my garden grows the very best of intentionsall lined up along the road to hellLust and dustmix and minglein the historiesI lurklike the spider stalkinga fly carcass crackling on the webwaiting watching wanting to remain ignorantsavor trustlike salted caramelmelting on my tongueor to take the bait and bite downhardon the truthThis knowing fruitsours the soupstiffensscum into skinon the surfaceI see the face of broken...

Out of the blackbodiesemergeinto lightthenretreatas the strings and wind wind aroundour viewinto this placeblindconnectionsrushingtowardsthe edgeso closeyou can hear the heavyhungry gaspholding on to each momentas if it were the lastchanceto breatheOctPoWriMo 2017 Day 29Image credit:  Jahna Frantziskonis and Max Cauthorn in Scarlett’s Fearful Symmetries.© Erik Tomass...

That placewhere the rugor in my casethe roadis pulled outfrom underfootwhere I wanderwonderingif I should do somethinganythingdifferenttrainwriteworkraceloveHow much do I givebefore I giveupoutof the bluelandingon the sidewalkagainnot knowinghow or whyI restresistanceon the curband pick myselfupandmoveonOctPoWriMo 2017 Day ...

Sweet Spring blossoms freein my grandmother's gardenthe precious commonOctPoWriMo 2017 Day ...

I was eightwhen I started sleepwalkingthrough lifethough it was more a crossing over my bodymy mindwould run wild circlesdreamson displayfor everyone to seeDoctor prescribedthe hot sweet cinnamona nightly shotto calmmy mother's nerves and keep me stillunder the sheetsspiders scampering on the ceilingthey would crawl downand nest in my gaping mouthWhen I woke nextI was 22riding the green dragon tendrils of smoke wafting...

Wordsthey sustain medefine mecontain mesurround meand I am alwayscraving more wordswhile walking the Seinein the shortgrey dayswhile passing the time staring at passersbythe warm detachment of a rustic redwrapped around mea woolen red scarfwhile sitting before youyou between my legsthe buttersoft leatheron my bare breaststhese taste of the deep unctouschocolate of meit pools undermy tongueandlingerslongafter I swallowwordswhile hurling a lifeonce...

We walked the streetsof Florencein the biting breezesof a new yearstill cutting her teethI followed youthrough passageand cobbled historiesalong long lingering loyaltiesbridgingbetween boyfriendandfriendboth twice removedWe danceduntil dawnstretched through the piazzawith a yawnof lightStumbling intoyour one roomyour one bedyour one questionCould I keepitthis scorching darknessbetween usjust usMy answerstrong and spiritedlike...

Loveitchesmy skinmy arms are bloomingage spotsalongthe scarsfrom years of trying to findcomfortbeneaththe surfacenothing leftbuta faint whitelinethe remains of dragging the bowbetweenthe stringsOctPoWriMo 17 Day 23*Image Credit: http://www.tattoolove.o...

Swingingback and forththoughtsandsongson repeatmy first ballettoehead in a tututouching the topof my headwith my toesSapphire needle dreamspirouetting33 1⁄3 rpmaround my penché perfect six year old worldMy lifelong friendsChopin, Tchaikovsky and Bachkeep me good companyWe met once in Parisfor a clandestinerehearsalmy breath haltedmy heartflic-flacsin time withthe rosin dusted pointeof viewIn my other lifemy six...

The Gamineshe serves no salmonjust lonely thoughtsswimming upstreamto my heart spaceWill they spawninspirationor will they settleinto sedimentfor bottom feedersto grow onWords are tightremaining coiledcurled undermy daily lifegrindunto a hopefulreachI need to stretchacross the pageA half pouris a good thingbut nowat the bottomof the glassthe pageI ache with wantSelf Controla bone honedskillto belaymy fallOctPoWriMo 17 Day ...

SoHauntingthe memories of wantingyouI still feelthe twinge tinglingthe fluttering beatthe rung outcore of my beingdesperatefor youYou stared back at meas if you knew my thoughtsyour plump plum lipsripe for the tastingYour wordsan invitation unansweredYour handrough and warmoffered to meas proofMy fingertipswould graze overuntil they entwinedwith yoursholdingstillholdingbackholding the secretfor just a moment longerOh how I was...

SkulkingaboutFox Newstwists their talesThey whine and Barktheir agendaandpiss on treesThe leashlandshardin the holeand assumesthe positiondefending its claimWatching usdance againjust in  44 timeasthe III loomslargewe foxtrot around the hurdlesquickstepthecatchWonderPerhaps it is finallytimeforcrafty actionend the orange seigewith the tempered touch ofa lady's glovePerhaps thenwe will be safein our deep knowing...

I witnesseda murdertodayIdly sitting sipping teastaring off towardsnothingmy visionblurredby daydreamsI stoodup slowlya yawning reachtowards nothing in particularthe desultoryviewthroughthe smeard hazy glassCatchinga glanceof the crime seenbelow meMy cool fingerscurled around the smooth bone china cupas I watchedwhen they mobbedthe brown onewhen they slammed her downto the grease stainedsidewalktaking turnskicking and twistingher...

And the dragon chosethe first wordswith eager hesitationand wonderhisflickering flame lickedthe spacewide openwheretingle chillnipping breezeseeped inunder the glass paneWill wewander offwhere wordswild and wickedarc and soarsurfaceand swirllike  dragon smokeOn to the pageHis choiceHe insistsis onlyAn invitationto flyOctPoWriMo 17 Day 17Image :A Black Dragon writing at a Podium Credit: http://www.flux.utah.edu/~aclement/temp...

My dark hoursare twistedaroundthe realizationthat I amboundto where I amwhere I have beenand where I want to beMy limbsconstrainedrestrained to the dreadI am off balancefallingoftentowardsthe hardconclusionthat things are not in alignmentFalls and fallings outfind meI do not wantto seekfamiliarsufferingsurging inon the shadowsI wear a cloakmorbidandheavyslunglowacross my shouldersas thoughI am boththe betrayerandthe exposedHerefearknowsmy nameSoI...