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II-XVIIII-XVIIII-XVII
Today, on the bridge over the brown flat wound of Seneca creek there is a dead fox. Or the remains of a dead fox at least, in the very truest sense of the word. A smudge, a loose collection of parts that had once been living, made up a living animal. Now stretched and strewn awfully on the harsh expanse of light concrete: viscera and fur and bones and tongue and cartilage and teeth and the contents of its gut. Other parts unidentifiable, what must have been bloody red now dull maroon from the weather and the time. It has clearly been here for days, although I haven’t noticed it before on my daily drive over the bridg
by ~SWcooper
Dusty Rose and MagnoliaSongs from an upcoming solo album called "Dusty Rose & Magnolia," an album i plan on recording in the next week at a cabin near Wardensville WV.Dusty Rose and Magnolia
GUN-SHY You could come and widen my self-destructive streak Its trap has sprung just inside of me Pushed up against all the letters That remain unsent My back is breaking from the weight of the tug
Of the door You touched my face and my fingers are begging
You for more
And most nights I’m wishing that these dreams were real
My intentions got caught in the nest of your veins I
by ~SWcooper
ThankfulTHANKFULThankful
by S.W. Cooper
I cannot sleep. It is far past three in the morning, and the surrounding world is quiet and inky. The warm pumpkin color of my room’s walls has cooled to a drab peach, and the only sound filling the space is the steady whir of the electric fan perched on my windowsill. Beyond the panes, the full branches of my red maple are silhouettes against the streetlight. They do not move in the still and sticky July night. I turn from one side to the other, and back again. Then I flip onto my back and stare at the sky blue ceiling, the color of which remains improbably constant, day or night. Each p
by ~SWcooper
First Law of MotionFIRST LAW OF MOTIONFirst Law of Motion
by Samuel Cooper
The morning after it happened, Woodrow Frazier walked the three and a half suburban blocks from his townhouse to the site of the crash. The sand that the emergency crew had spread to soak up the spilled antifreeze was still caked on the road, and there were a few crystalline particles of window glass in the gutter. He could see the smudged remains of flares on the pavement. He was still pretty shaken up, and his leg throbbed.
Right after the accident, and after calling the insurance company, he had phoned Sophia with trembling fingers. He sat down in the pastel, flora
by ~SWcooper
Favourites
a flower clipSeth is watching from his bedroom window as his father’s red pickup pulls into the driveway. It has been half a year since he was in this room.a flower clip
The closest house to his is a mile away. It belonged to a girl named Laura. He could not remember much about Laura, except that she had brown eyes, her mother made ham and pickle sandwiches, and her father played piano.
Seth watches his father disappear beneath the roof of the small front porch and hears the slamming of the screen door as he enters the kitchen. The sound of stomping boots shakes the house as they wander to and fro; bags are dropped, pockets unpac
by ~altilde
SamSamSam
“You know, there was a time when I thought that this cat was a reincarnation of my mum.” I stopped stirring the tea and turned around, not sure whether what I had heard was imagination or not. Sam was sitting there at the table, gazing steadily at me, a sort of determination in his eyes. My cat, Mica, lay on his lap, purring softly as Sam slowly rubbed underneath her chin, exactly the way she liked it. I returned his look, trying to find something to say, and then slowly moved back toward the table, the tea in my hand, not betraying that I was thinking about what he said. “Here.” &
by ~pink-lettuce-leaf
Think the Dance of Spring The snow flakes floated down behind the slightly frosted glass of the window. They always kept the heating low and it irked me to no end. I leaned my elbows onto the dining table where my sketchbook rested and wiggled my toes within my socks, trying to chase the chill out of them. I wanted to draw today, it was supposed to be my day to relax, but my mind was blank like the empty white page in front of me. My usual inspiration, the world, was not helping because it was just as blank, marred by the consistent white snow.Think the Dance of Spring
Finally, I picked up my pencil and pressed the tip a
by ~YumeAkuma
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Poolesville, MD
- Interests: music, books, art, movies, America
- Favourite movie: Casablanca
- Favourite band or musician: Wilco
- Favourite genre of music: good
- Favourite artist: Edward Hopper
- Favourite poet or writer: JD Salinger, Mark Twain, Charles Frazier, Isabel Allende, Ray Bradbury, DBC Pierre
- Favourite photographer: Sally Mann
- Shell of choice: mussel
- Skin of choice: epidermis
- Favourite gaming platform: my head
- Favourite cartoon character: Hoppity
- Personal Quote: "um"
- Tools of the Trade: head, hands, tongue
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