Wet Woman (full Ver)
Sylvie Guillem
Sylvie Guillem
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Experimental works, prompts, mostly raw and new writing. A place to hang them while they dry.
The Writing Vein
Go to my main website The Writing Vein.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
I have a submissions calendar page. These are culled from P&W, Duotrope, CRWOPPS, emails and friends. Feel free to add the Google calendar in its entirety to your calendar or add specific events.
Tags
Blog Archive
-
▼
2010
(51)
-
▼
April
(32)
- napwrimo: april 30
- napowrimo: april 29
- napowrimo: april 28
- napowrimo: april 27
- napowrimo: april 26
- napowrimo: april 25
- napowrimo: april 24
- napowrimo: april 23
- napowrimo: april 22
- napowrimo: april 21
- napowrimo: april 20
- napowrimo: april 19
- napowrimo: april 18
- napowrimo: april 17
- Razor's Edge for 4/16/10
- naprwrimo: april 16
- napowrimo: april 15
- napowrimo: april 14
- napowrimo: april 13
- napowrimo: april 12
- napowrimo: april 11
- napowrimo: april 10
- napowrimo: april 9
- napowrimo: april 8
- napowrimo: april 7
- napowrimo: april 6
- napowrimo: april 5
- napowrimo: april 4
- napowrimo: april 3
- Razor's Edge for 4/2/2010
- napowrimo: april 2
- napowrimo: april 1
-
▼
April
(32)
2 comments:
a piece of me
by dot
recovering the water in rocks
the plants reach down deep deeper
the taproot invisible yet strong
demanding more and growing
the surface clings not so tight
wispy leaves windblown green becoming white
one bulb submerged
resurfacing I pull them one by one
by
one green one
so easy they disconnect
so easy to separate
one from the other and then they're
gone leaving
a white exposed lump now naked
hiding
its depth
hiding
the core
in, over my head
by Deb
in the murky green
water of my memory
i swim, first slow
then fast and faster
trying on
flipper toes
the drowned landscape
difficult to navigate
using land vision
to know the way of
seaweed forests
i close my eyes
head pointed to
the silent depth
a bottom world
a different life
i trust the current
i close my mouth
learning to breathe
through my skin
ancient gills blossom
along my throat
i open my eyes
turn face again
filtered light
an anchor line
draws me to my surface
another day
(I really did start this on the 6th, this prompt was so powerful, it took me a long time to find my poem)
Post a Comment