Linley Munson, Chrysalis

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

You confine me in shadow, obscure my vision,Let terror wash over meI try to stretch my limbs, yearning for freedom,To reveal myself to the worldIt doesn’t work; I am bound to you, trapped in this futureless presentThese incidents leave sad details along my figure,Deep, scoring lines across my ribs and armsMy attempts at salvation anger…

lyrikal777, something

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

mystify then ,emerge and render something beautiful .escape this presentobscure conundrum .shift .this is not home .bound to figure it out .tomorrow i carvewith the details of this very thought ,scoring karmic repercussionswith each word said or muted .shadow my other halfand stillness a sustaining peace .i long for source ,like the need for a…

Joe Milazzo, Laughing Stock

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

The terror of the average still life lies in its sugary shining. Those yokel apples, as obvious as labor. The pears that stretch the dawn until its warp rips to reveal the golden’s yellowed shame. The crush of those blood oranges? The scramble of those schmaltzy melons? Louder than aloud. The better recommendation marks such…

Kari Lynch, Communion

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

I used to love a boy who could render fat from any source until shining, liquid gold would emergehissing the hymn of its soul but bound my mouth to muted could carve the flesh from a cold, dead thing, terror frozen on its facestretch organ meats to abundance, fattening the thousands but tried to fettle…

Debra Levy-Fritts, Origin Stories

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

“Hang onto my faith until yours comes back,” she said I grew up thinking, in my one hand, nothingness, dust,the other, everything, shining, a universe as glove, essentially, tho’ a speck, I mattered, source and figure, firm – a fine fettle formed. But our lives aren’t so easy … it is not like that/ faith…

Paul Koniecki, curiosity for the dead

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

thirty muted lines on fire we are the words we choose outsiders emerge aloud and pound against the terrible membrane of source details – terror light the pyrerender moonset and carve totem admired ineffable shining present be willing a willingness to stretch and shift perspective is original love abandon fine fettle field – brook –…

Christine Irving, The Red Tent

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

When they carve the womb from your body it leaves a hole in your psyche. That the absence of an obsolete organ could crush a woman’s spirit is bound to mystify the uninitiated, but one’s ability to abandon creative power is not subject to arbitrary scoring.  Mourning may last months. Our silence muted the afternoon,…

Michael Helsem, Analog Cum Gnome

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Almost to the top of houses, shiningwater spreads, to no man’s order bound;a figure in a kayak, too, is present. Deep clouds mystify with their intentionsall day long, this road the final stretch.My hopes, though muted, kept me back from terror. This gate, sign half-destroyed: something “…abandon.”I linger for awhile, would maybe carvethat I was…

Alan Gann, Grieving Mary Oliver

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

Lookeven as shadow falls awayI cannot escape the crush, paralytic weight of your absence. Remember when rain would not stop and the brook could not contain the terror, when field disappeared beneath rising water and we were carried away, adrift but together, our greatest stretch and hallelujah. Never bound, every gorge a chance to leap…

Steven Duncan, Dark Flowers

By Writers Garret | April 25, 2019

a shining terrorwill emerge and stretch, pass muted shadowover sunken gorge figure after figurerising in the night,a field of dark flowersbound up under ice now from a slow thawthey shift, abandona gentleness long admired earth no longer to confine they mystify aloud escape the natural source,obscure wicked detailsby treading in the brook scoring crude fettle…

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