Category: Writing
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Submit Yourself
Like many others on the blogs I follow I have been submitting my writing to publishers. In the push to get some of my work published I’ve come across some of the familiar, old, reliable doubts and fears of mine and a couple of insights that I thought would be cool to share.
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Out
Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what you think in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance Out for a walk and I realize that everything I know to be fact, through careful scientific observation, has been told to me. The things that…
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On Poetry (again)
To be able to write poetry successfully I have to do two things: give in to the experience. And give up assigning value to words; stay true to the story; give in to the music within the word. By giving in to the experience of course I mean the experience that gives rise to poetry,…
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Silent Nights
He’s a fugitive walking through the neighborhood. Trapped in the town he’s running from. Choruses of frothing loam biting at his ankles. On those silent nights clouds pass by mob-like and at sunset they are pitchforks and torches. But at night, under moonlight; a weighted down hatchback packed to the brim. Anticipating the getaway…
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Thoughts In Your Morning Cereal
Casting thoughts of the future like searchlights this is worship.The halo of attention sits atop storms of desolate mindscapes like little bloated O’s floated in bath scum. Frosted CRISPR Cas13’s deployed in your morning cereal. Dad says to eat up. Viruses create havoc— an attempt to take control of the host. Then ooze blob-like out…
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falling
Falling and flailing, it seems wildly, but, in fact its what we’re programmed to do when we’re falling. I can feel the jet streams taking me, not unlike a leaf. I was in the clouds, but now I’m falling and the mantra in my head: trust the ground. This happens every time I’m falling like…
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Bald
We went to dinner, which apparently is what everyone else does on an ordinary weekday night. We sat in a booth, my daughter and wife across from me. Dad look. Dad look,” pointing passed me. a bald guy! you know, I say, some day I could be bald. But I don’t want a bald father!
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Always Love
there’s always love available. our job is to find it. when we are stuck looking for where its not we won’t find it. only when we commit ourselves to finding the love that’s available, even in impossible situations, will we be able to find it. Some trees are already bare, and the leaves that remain,…
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The Scene at Caffè Lieto (biscuit bitch)
travelers stand next to 9-5’ers who line the sidewalk, street-side no parking ’til 9 a.m. Music thunders out of the caffè. One couple chats while they wait, everyone else has noses in screens; trying not to be seen; the starlings flutter near the curb. One brave soul, tempted and cautious, hops under the two-person table…
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Feast
Feast—Could be a stagnant, sunny day; could be soaked and drizzling. Along a row of dumpsters the crows hang out on the truss-work just above. Behind them, in the broad-leafed maple (leaves white with fungus, and crispy-brown singed edges) dozens of crows fly in and out, back and forth. Of the crows that have taken…
Daniel J Flosi is Consumed 