With sessions supposedly about to start again soon, figured I should finally put down some of my favorite output from the Words That Move digital writing sessions with Max Stossel.
In hindsight, I should have listed the dates for these – those I’m going to have to pull from memory.
These are sessions where we talk for 30 min based on a prompt, write for about 35, and, if called, share for the remainder.
WTM – 10/29(?)/20
prompt: power
notes: must have had Julio Pazos Barrera’s Pegasus Autopsy in mind
title: none yet
The feathered pair lies
In a shallow ditch;
Wings in elegiac contortion
Belying rapture now faded,
The appendages splayed
In impotent remains
Of unfulfilled desire
In my mind, I conjure the ghost
Of that last flight:
Dual crescendo tames the reeling winds;
The coupling aspires,
Bronzed, heedless, brazen,
To spheres from whereupon
Their pinions shade continents
Now the ghost gives path to stillness
Were I to know tomorrow’s flight
Would be my last,
I dream, how high I’d dare
How sheer the fall to follow
WTM – 12/12(?)/20
prompt: anger
notes: a fun prompt to pick over the holidays; some great sharing here of seasonal anguish
title: Burning Ceremony
She takes her pen from its corner,
With each stroke,
Her fingers shake
Brimming with the weight
Of unspoken years,
Each tie and loop
She puts to page
Burdened with what the world
Tells her not to say.
Her words are on fire;
Cold and evident a moment ago,
Now catalyzed, transforming,
Irreversible,
The sheet that bound them
Whimpers and writhes
From glory white to wine-black.
Carbon and varnish
Divide and decay,
The sentiments they held
Are now unchained,
Rising as noxious whispers
Into the air.
Seconds later, they dissipate,
As entropy extinguishes
What passion remains.
She breathes the air,
Clean of the fumes,
And is content.
WTM – 12/26/20
prompt: money
notes: perfect for the day after Christmas. still very rough, but I like it
title: none yet
How much did you spend today?
Did you budget your balance?
Appraise your time?
Re-check your self-worth?
I saw the faith-market
Take a dive.
Did the drawdown on
Your prayer-folio
Prompt a partial divestment
For thought pennies,
Taking advantage of the
Per transaction
cost-of-having-conscience
discount?
These days, it seems
The inputs that go
Into daily slices of humble pie
Are ego-flating and lopsiding
The honest-to-goodness ratio,
And so my anxiety-planner tells
Me I’ll have to make a provision
This month for high probability
Losses on my dignity account
Which means that’ll eat up
What precious cap-space
I have left for denial.
And when that’s gone, how will I
Fund all these mental antes
As taxing season comes due
And I have to re-check every
Goodwill receipt I’ve accumulated and
Tucked into my balance-of-patience
Folder so that I can be sure
That once I’ve audited my neediness,
And filed that return to simplicity,
There is nothing left
I owe to myself.
I can’t wait to retire.
WTM – 2/20(?)/21
prompt: I can’t exactly remember, but I think part of it included politics, governance, society, etc.
notes: at least partly, I was thinking of Paul Chadwick’s imagery from the Concrete story, “I Strive for Realism”
title: none yet
Upon the shore,
I write my name.
I smile,
And time the waves
As they turn
My impression
Into memory.
I think,
And hold the memory.
It turns immune
To the tides,
Shelled by a wish
For my past to follow
Me into tomorrow.
I dream,
A shore where
Every footprint
I make is permanent,
The shape of the sand
Skewed so far
From its natural smile,
The grains weary and sick,
Unable to feel
The kiss of water
That restores them to purity.
I imagine,
Impossibly,
Beaches across the earth
Where all our steps
Over lifetimes
Last forever.
The world eternally,
Under the weight of our soles,
Misshapen by every
Need, impulse, and want
To make ourselves
Felt, beloved, and real,
Every system,
Constitution,
And order we leave behind
Defying the heave
Of the tides.
The thought is a moment
Timed to the wave,
Impressive to the grains
Beneath our feet
As to the stars
Over sand and sky.
WTM – 3/20/22
prompt: Russia/Ukraine
notes: Max mentioned this made him feel sad, and he really looked it. One of the most memorable reactions I’ve gotten (sorry, Max).
title: none yet
Who am I?
Who are you?
I want to know you,
But to really know you
Is more than learning
Who and what you are.
I want to see things through
Your eyes, and live in your skin
To walk in your steps,
And feel through your extremes.
To remove the differences between us,
Not to understand your thoughts,
But to nourish my soul with your ideas,
Not to meet you halfway,
But to turn our boundaries into ash,
To flood the channels and canals
Of your motive
With my resentment,
To burnish your joy
With my trauma,
For the anguish that drives me
To sear your veins,
As though we shared the same heart.
Only then will the voices inside
Be at peace
Only then will you be part
Of what I am
Only then will I know you
Only then, can I finally destroy you
flies on the ceiling 