What is this tightness at my throat? If I was a man in a gray flannel suit, I'd wait for a particularly intense boardroom meeting and then grasp the knot of the tie at my throat and yank down, wrenching it away from me. But I'm no man, there's no…
All posts tagged Favorites
Consider a boiled skull on a table.
At first you may recoil at the sight, succumbing to the childlike fear of ghosts and ghouls and zombies, a reluctant-to-depart spirit haunting the blank, dark pockets which once housed eyes. Then you give yourself a shake. There is nothing to fear, you think, and the thought whirls in your…
Silence
It's amazing what I cannot think of when my head is filled with the noise of the modern world. Names and places and dates and descriptions which would come so easily to me on an ordinary day, cannot be coaxed or conjured between sirens and loud voices... they cower in…
Drowning
In a cluster of doubtful cedars, branches laden with despair, is an ink-black pool of water surrounded by obsidian stones. When a girl on a journey stops to rest, wandering into the woods, she thanks her god for shelter and moves to take a seat. She pauses at the poolside,…
Choleric
On days like this one, the River of Constant Thought that cuts a reliable, refreshing swathe through the heavy jungles of my brain... shuts off. I can't remember things. I can't think of a better word for "things" than "things." And it irritates me. Thus begins the derision of my…
A Modern Christian's Blasphemy
A friend of mine, intrigued by a minor glimpse into my complicated system of religious beliefs, recently posed some questions for me via email. He called his questions both "quick" and "rhetorical." They turned out to be neither. So, I thought it would be more efficient to post my response…
love
curve of tongue around the ell dipping tone beneath the oh sultry vibration of lips on vee faith in the silence of invisible ee -Audrey Camp, 2008-…
The Tradition of the Dead Canary
There is something about school children running through dead leaves, weaving circles between trees and each other. So much growing and so much leaving things behind. They have no idea how quickly it will be gone, this rush of every minute being new. They are not tired. They do not…