A kaleidoscope in death take me where the poet lays for I should never see again the final act; halcyon; like the esplanades I once walked upon at the thunderous chaos of my ghost; have we met in the aches and laughs woefully of all that is strange; orgasmic ambrosia dissociation chuckles into the bloodlust [...]
is it pseudopsychosis? ask me when the moon is stripped to her feet
Stealthily pacing away from the grassland and forestry was only to no avail. She would be yet another cause of death and havoc, as she marched on. Sideway flames were engulfing her vision, blood started to drip out from her wrists as she trembled—gripping vices like onto a tree limb; she struggled to catch her breath.
I recently submitted a short story to the Reedsy writing contest, one of the prompts being: "Write about a first date that surprises both people, but in different ways."This prompt intrigued me, so I decided to use two of the characters I created from Identify, an ongoing novel collaborative project, and apply them to the [...]
So, first off, I want to acknowledge that the topics mentioned may be triggering. This is a content warning as the following information relates to a convicted pedophile and CSA. I also acknowledge that people may feel differently about Poetry Magazine’s actions, so I'm disabling comments on this post. Whether you agree or disagree with [...]
death by all the flowers into my hands; moon-struck in the deconstruction of the womb in night of envying cults of orgasm, her prime ashes moon taunts and she rises the black lily until such thorns are wounds upon the sculptural song and dance, as our silhouettes weep, to die. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights [...]
Check out the completed drawing Au did for one of the main characters of my ongoing novel collaboration, “Identify.” It’s very well done and I would as well recommend giving their site a look.
The drawing depicts the opening scene from chapter one:
Tom splashed the water onto his face, searching for respite in the cool air. His teeth chattered in the breeze, and he was withholding tears from his eyes as the wind progressed faster onto his pale skin. He was naked. The circular white edges of sand trapped themselves onto his feet as he crawled. Tom stirred out of memory how he washed ashore, resigning it as a lost cause.
Overcast, the wisps of wind crashed through heavily, and momentarily, he felt warmth, a possessed warmth draping over like a blanket. He closed his eyes, chose a spot in partial darkness and lied down; eyes frosted over, he was still until he felt his body lifted from the edge of the isthmus.
If you’re interested in jumping in on the novel collaboration, I am still on the lookout for more participants to be involved. Please feel free to reach out to me via my contact page if you would like to do so. If you’re not caught up on the story, need a little reminder, or want to look at character motives and background, you can refer to the character psychological profiles. I look forward to working with you!
And Au is back, one more time.
I wont bore you with illnesses, apathy, headaches, and such things, only because Im doing early morning bird supply duty in a few minutes!
For the Novel Collaboration “Identify” at Lucy’s Works
This site is old enough for certain things to remain, old… so you can right click, new tab, and you get the drawing, this and any here 🙂
Mmm, its not the exact file size for a bit, so, mmm, annoying. I hope it doesnt change anything, so, so, annoying…
More to come late today, hopefully.
Help me feed the birds!!
Phantasmagoric red gold, last breath to bind them or myself–I’m not sure; a shadow is a shadow then so am I until I vanish into the winter of the bears, I ask that you do not find me; I want to be played by tragic lutes, the first scene like the half of bread the [...]
Shadows on the grass Mistook for an old friend. All things pass, However much we pretend Otherwise. You closed your eyes, And left your mark Upon my heart.
infinite in papery moons why must I lay under your foot in the voluptuous sea? madcaps and glassed eyes her next death in a million moons I’ve yet to meet; god’s leavetaking, nothing left for you but a ghost of gardens. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Reposted for the dVerse Open Link Night.
The garden diaphanous it’s circling to my bleeding feet bones climbing to the moon you left me my Achilles heel; I stalk the moon from stone to stone entranced through midnight; I’ve left behind my shadow gods taunting me asleep. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
"For the listener, who listens in the snow, And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is." – Wallace Stevens, The Snow Man.
“And what else after? Some cinnamon pie? A nice Moscow mule? We can’t have those luxuries here so I don’t owe you shit except survival.”
I came back again the full God, an opus of your eye; I am her mad spring—she wants to see how far we flay in our garden beds and I am your tragedy in diaphanous arms of the moon growing silhouette rising to the thunderbird; she’s killing me more than I ever could © 2021 [...]
I had just finished reading How Bad are Bananas? The Carbon Footprint of Everything and I was on the verge of despair. We are in the midst of a climate emergency, and our carbon emissions keep increasing. 777 more wordsThe Anthropocene Hymnal: Call for Submissions! — Experiments in Fiction Please check out Ingrid's anthology project above [...]
Dedicated to camp counselor Mushki.
leaving death of all silhouettes when the new moon born of lured tragedies outstretched to kill itself; the roots my shame winter of the flowers, if I loved, then they should fall to my feet in wastrel-fragility guiding memorial bones to the knees of the garden © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Reposted for the [...]
I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss [...]
an opus eyea moon in the hood of a rose, my hibernation once every few weeks;if I wake,an eye cracks; many stonesand cold-blooded treeswhat a thrillI know it’s in the windif I shame the childless snakesin my bed. Opus rubies split alongThe street.© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Drinking from another mismatched moon-eye in another, should I have loved, then only with my garden should I climb to my roots vowels sparse like bones miraculous stone and hair holding ultima, eating man to the fuchsia, death of all things, skin, a dollhouse of nicks. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved