Raw Earth Ink
spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
Tag: Prose
In the Last Light of the Evening
The leaves on the trees have become smudges, merely a backdrop I look right through. I see nothing. I see everything. Everything. You weren’t able to reach beyond the now into tomorrow. You stay in the past and try for today, but never tomorrow.… Continue Reading “In the Last Light of the Evening”
That Fine Line
Your feet nearly touch the thin line, waiting, then pushing a toe tentatively nearer; you sigh wistfully, pull back gently. What delight may be held, should you ultimately cross over? Would it be to your peril or your salvation? There are risks and there… Continue Reading “That Fine Line”
Mother
She runs through the grass and the trees. Moss clings to her bare feet, the dew damp upon her skin. With ease, she dodges the branches and twigs which stretch out to snag her long flowing raven hair. She skips deftly over roots and… Continue Reading “Mother”
The Higher Call
He dips his pen into the inkwell. Lifts it carefully, tapping it gently on the edge of the jar before moving back to his paper. His fingertips, forever stained with the heavy black ink, never hesitate. Not a moment passes where there aren’t thoughts… Continue Reading “The Higher Call”
Nectarine
I wish that I could take and hold you in my hand, curl you up within my palm. I would, if possible, take and sew you then into my pocket, careful stitches placed in neat rows, that I could take you with me wherever… Continue Reading “Nectarine”
For Better or For Worse
desperate dreams spread their gossamer threads across my mind, penetrating and perpetuating visions of grandeur. disgusted, or perhaps disappointed, I cast them far, flung open handed and wide. can’t win for losing, a voice whispers, but I snap my fingers and laugh sarcastically. or… Continue Reading “For Better or For Worse”
Moments in Blue
We sit across from one another at a little diner. The benches are real wood with ducks and hunting dogs carved into them and the cushions are a faded burgundy vinyl. Country western music plays out the speakers but we aren’t really listening. I’m… Continue Reading “Moments in Blue”
Through The Window
The first time she climbed through my bedroom window in the middle of the night I was ten and she was eight. She didn’t say anything, just clung to me beneath my purple unicorn blanket and quivered. I wrapped my arms around her and… Continue Reading “Through The Window”
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