Archives de mot-clé : writing

If you can hear a piano fall

I didn’t turn a light on and I certainly didn’t play any music. I sat there in the beautiful silence, the wind gently humming through the window seams, the darkness just completing itself outside. I poured myself a glass of wine. … Lire la suite

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The Beauty in Error (The 5 W’s of Writing)

Wistful. I want to write in a journal with a favourite silky pen or a soft, gliding pencil on fresh, gleaming sheets of paper that smell deliciously of fresh, gleaming sheets of paper with a sweet hint of glue and … Lire la suite

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Indian Summer

It waited for me the rain this morning I told him yesterday I am going for a walk in the rain at dawn you are welcome to join me. And in my first few steps fell the first few drops … Lire la suite

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Fuck Fiction!

The only thing I’ve put in this poor body today is a coffee, the toxic fumes of half a cigarette, and some of my own blood from a scab I picked. I’m hungry. I’m on a train bound for The … Lire la suite

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What Pound has to say

To the author who gave me the “Bus driver” assignment, I wrote: <<I posted my last attempt at Bus driver. I say last because while I feel it is important to stick at a thing, sometimes it also gets to … Lire la suite

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FROM HERE ON IN

Today begins a new phase in my life. I sold my car, cut my hair, and quit the gym. I am giving myself a budget of $20 per day for all food and drink. That includes groceries, restaurants, bottles of … Lire la suite

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Poetry 02: Marseille

I envision us in a café where they come to know us by name everyday perfectly mundane and blissfully the same we write and we drink our cafés then bourbon then wine then we dine then stroll by the sea … Lire la suite

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Write of passage

The Sun is enormous and powerful and huge in the sky and unobstructed and shining its rays directly on Me. I obey. I respond fully with face tilted up. I remain motionless in a trance-like state. I absorb. This is … Lire la suite

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Procrastination at it’s finest

It is the second day of Spring and I have woken to a fresh, thin cover of pristinely white snow that at another time of year like the middle of winter I would discover and marvel at how it’s so … Lire la suite

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Bukowski 102

I have come to the realization that it is important to force myself to write every day. I am reading Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast” which is about him and his writing and a bit about his process and his writing … Lire la suite

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