Newest
HummingbirdStartled by red beyond the glass, she raised her gazeHummingbird
from dishes--at once a human being,
not a human doing.
by ~Torby-ADK
MischiefA word about the seduction of flies, the primate reach to open a scab or poke a corpseMischief
and see what wriggles:
no trap of sugared words, but a capture with the novelty of crudity, as if a victim of rape somehow became the jailer-- the suicide who left a note, "I have everything."
by ~Torby-ADK
EarthThe coloratura bent the first note.Earth
Telephone lines sagged like taffy and slowly felled their poles. The page misted; she paused a serpent's blink. Cell towers sank in bogsand. She trilled and satellites quit their orbits; some grew comet plumage. Her last note thinned to silence. Hello? Is anybody there?
by ~Torby-ADK
NadirBrine and sweet sway your bearings, when ocean and honeysuckle vie to flavorNadir
the dark. Just as an eye might start
to discern a white thread from a black,
susurrant fingers of air halt and still
the leaves to statuary, then fist
to wring out the day's distillate.
Chilled surfaces plate with pewter.
Insomniacs rise from garden cushions,
return to cooled sheets, and again try to find their night.
by ~Torby-ADK
Favourites
Burning BridgesYou can't rely on other gums toBurning Bridges
cut your holiday teeth, kid. Or the harmless promise in clear-bottle drowning, and
how it all starts with a Saturday
gasp. In the fatter part of the
night, you talk tall, stand,
and finetune your hips for bridges.
Here comes the London burning, the head is blooming and only thirsty. From here, it's unashamed to get you
and oh, it just gets too easy for the switch to lift your clothes
right off. Co
by ~ottersandsky
EmulationYou are the grime and the dirt, the tarnished silver and the rust. You are the ring around the collared shirt and the runny yolk of the egg. You are the graying briefs of the bachelor and the pit bulls suddenly on attack.Emulation
However, you are not the scent of fresh rosemary, the carnations in the bowl, or the cabin of logs.
And you are certainly not the salty sea breeze. There is just no way that you are the salty sea breeze.
It is possible that you are the trash on the highway, maybe even the dung in the barnyard, but you are not even close to bein
by ~MsStarryskye
we speak of you"you shut the hell up," she watches out the window, curious.we speak of you
boys with colored sweat mold their fists
into slabs of ocean, beating on a boy with
straw-colored skin. she figures she knows
his parents—the brown-eyed, doe woman
who is probably abused and the husband
with the dark, thick hands.
she watches as his freckles are doused
in blood, a thick goopy wine-color while
their hands attempt to break skin, to
break this town.
the window is spattered with the remains
of insects and she watches them converge,
all at once, into a
by ~livingcomforteagle
Journal
No journal entries yet.
deviantID
No deviantID yet.
Devious Info
No devious info yet.
deviantART Community Board
Comments
Site Map
©2009 deviantART. All rights reserved
[link]
--
Amanda
[link]
[link]
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
I know how the devil sleeps at night
He lights the fire behind my eyes
And he lets it there and I let it lie
I know how the devil sleeps at night
--
Imagination + discipline = creativity
--
Founder of =Inked-Page | Staff for *100ThemesChallenge, *ProsePlease | Lit Critic at *devCRIT
--
i lick, i pant, i love. i am a wallaby.
Previous Page12345...Next Page