http://slow.writerscafe.org/OrangeIrene The original writings of author Anna Auel en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776111479 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I buried my heart beneath your wallsthe only place I ever felt at home�"Qpostcard-long                  love noteto an elegant laundress�"letter in her hands never! dirt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1075957/ I justlovehow everyone                                thinksthey can writepoetrysuch tortured artistsexistamong us.Didn&rsquo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1072545/ Confess(shins)scrape against the cave tunnelwall&floor claspclose to smotherthe truth out spreading wingslike nail marksa  prehistoriccurrent(scene)they don’t havecaves in Brugesbut plenty of belltowers to fall fromand beer to drink�"to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1062225/ Ourkittenthree monthsyoungmissing a toothbegs the questionwhat elseis he missing? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1056602/ “I buried my heart beneath your wallsthe only place I ever felt at home.”crossing the street, admiring the elegant laundress�"letter in her hands never dirt beneath her nails, but gravel in her mouth, constantly chewing grinding down to a fine art thepaste to ma.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1054469/ Theywanted her for her handstactile wonders that saw on her behalfhere she lies, sawed in halfon the table of restraint, struggling to speak through bloody gauzebut only muffled sounds of horror emitas they�"bearing no name-tags, their titles are official and brook no compl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1045746/ Coin-op kingsprofessional repairmen of early machinesstoredin a listing barn propped up by wooden tool boxes wedged in its armpitsthey light up and flash, kewpie doll and football fake-fornicatingwith naughty peep showsof decades ago,  ladies in bathing suits playing strip.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1042555/ Watched a man on televisionspread his arms in desert panoramic vision no one needs to add Technicolor   to the sandit is the only color   for miles.The tire treads of 1979-era Ford off-roaderssnake around the dunes, elaborate infinitiesloopingand &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1035530/ For no reason at allIt is summerso we walk outsidetake trips to the gas stationThe two of you meetfor no reason at all(you tell me not since high school)on  a street uneven with bricks that to tripfor no reason at allon our way we passa white bicycle with flowers in the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1031104/ I began this poem with the phrase sliced tuna, a serious grasping at straws�"my boyfriendeyes dropping over my shoulder in the seat next to me           reached over and typed TOO SOONA with delicate punches, help held down with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1029706/ shook a few great shakesfrom the salt shaker over my shoulder in the shadow of linoleum, feel like the shaking Quakers drunk on the spirit of a holy high. Finding the niche of belonging only to discover that no one knows me anymore--except that boy I met not long ago who fell in love with.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1015529/ Weddings: wheeling and dealing with the bride( the bride’s family the bride’s friendsthebride’sthegroom’sthebride’s)in attendance to watch the attendants attend with sycophantic bows.Floating through as I do, knowing no one and known by none--"Oh, you’re o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1009157/ A poem I wrote for my brother as a wedding gift. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/1005653/ It was Sunday, the first hottest day of the week. The road was bright the houses squinted with the glare.His car, my boyfriend's car has no air conditioning--the hot wind blows through andthe sun burned a hole in my head and my thoughts went stumbling out--the wind scooped them off the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/994473/ Godzillastormed the keepof the 90’s,                 wild hair angst-riddenmusic nose-pierced frenzy,he stomped about and screamed and everyone heardsought to understand the a-sexual�"it&r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/989330/ Folding clothesfeeding chickens                        that resemblehawksI feel saferthan a storm blowing through,safer than knowing the future.Acceptance chafes, leaves.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/984759/ 3 a.m.at least it must be.refuse to look at the clock in case it is later (earlier?)--it would only agitate. Like a fan.you are sleeping next to me, lying on your left side.turned away. Turned away from me. I imagine.my mind creates scenarios that involve my inferioritymy gross embod.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/981722/ Burnside, ironside, bricks and heavy things.names that bear a testament to cement.steadied by nails (the poor man’s weaponized construction)on the weekends I blister and squint and grown                &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/977551/ don’t know how I will catch upbyliningupthese French toast sticks                                    &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/973703/ short skirts receive                              l o o o n g looks.eyes lifted higher�"wondering what is     &n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/973692/ a fictional woman commits adultery.“The Storm.” A short story. By Kate Chopin.Admirable, this woman--they say, these stick woman in spectacles and mushroomhair,wearing chips on their shoulder like proud eagles, because she did it during a time when the patriarchy was oppressi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/971130/ fall into the well�"like a fairytaletrying to find constellations buried in the earth                                 &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/969218/  It is Friday.pasta and wine for lunch                                          &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/966241/ took ashower lateone night�"washed the gore of the day down the drain along with the film of the newborn rabbit, skin so thin and grey�"noiseless sucking at unforgiving air swirling down and downnow dead, its siblings mewing blindly (down)underground.ru.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/963874/ Hitmy teeth on the edge of the beer bottlethe awkward knocking knocks me back--pulls my guts like taffy (from the neck)stretched from my mouth, salt tang(ing) stingingwounding everyonewe all have open wounds that seepsoaked in anxious rage.but it’s just the boardwalk by the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/961690/ 10 amin the workplace:Mechanicalarms and legs do the work without a brain"busy turning its own wheels"they run on levers endlessly grinding their teethwhilethe mind crunches past and present inferiorities overandoverandover:a repeating gearchildhood habits/reliances/coping me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/956798/ I walkedfor daysacross thesamehundredfoot stretch of asphaltandgloomygrass. The currentof mythoughts runningbelow my feet.  still assleep. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953616/ The day you left my door�"Is also the day I died.Rain accompanying the soundOf your steps�"growingSofter. A black and yellow armadilloCrossed my walk that night�"And shook its tail�"At the chime of midnight... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953614/ poem inspired by the short film "Un Chien Andalou" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953610/ I believed once.Religion and Sprituality twin anchors around my neckI wanted to believe, wanted to be anchored to that biblicalshore.I believed in Belief. But             Now.I believe inwaste.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953606/ Pouring chloroform in an open wound�"hoping it will deaden the nerves, put this agony to rest.Dreading the time when the monster awakes again to plague me,bleed me dry, lap up my tears, tear open the fresh scab of my healing.But let it sleepfor now,steeped in nothingness... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953604/ You say:come over to the table.I say: nothing. just follow like a devoted thing (a silly thing) bereft of speech.I arrive but you’ve gone already                       .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953602/ The young go by smoking small-town morning glories. WrestlingWith the existential crises in their knapsacks and pursespockets�"my hand in yours your hand in mine�"Folds of their clothes and tissue paper shoved in the toesof their shoes.That were.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953600/ Paying daily reverence to machine dreamsthoughtless electronic buzz ThenCoalesce the sunshine and the shade.Spread branches over my head. ConcealedI don’t know that I’ll ever go anywhere.Hiding in my skin like a stranger. And.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953597/ The center of the universe is a small square box of brokenhearts that reaches infinitely to the coastal shelf, then drops to the bottomof a bottomless rock. Some say it is the extra room to hell, where deep sobsand empty stares populate. Ever expanding I know it. I have seen it�"my.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953559/ Running a comb through my hairhole-punch circles in my skin so the pressureabates. (can’t say I didn’t see this coming) I am a skeleton of wires You twist around your fingers�"but they’re not too stiffTo go back.Only I can m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953257/ Down a beaten road Iliedust gathering aroundmy feet.Pry my ribcage openwith a crowbarhear the cracks of bonenothing lies in there my heart is in mythroat.upand out out out it comes,purple and scarlet and pumping in the dirt. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953255/ I keep my soul close like letters in the floor wrapped withrubber bands But now I reach inside myself and with my can opener fingerschink chink chink the lid is off and  my essence pours out everywhere, out of me out of my mouth dripping from the ends of my limbsleaving a .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953251/ Springis coming.I graduated in the spring.                                    then the winter came    .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/953204/ Girl bought ared strapless dress at a second-hand store in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Red like redhots candy. It would burn the Boy up. He would want to taste her on his tongue.She bought it. She looked gorgeous. Even she thought so. She bought it for him.Bought it for them both. Because he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/952858/ Who has energy for a live wire?That’s what he asks his friend.The sparks burn too much, she burns my love away.Money and bad sex and more moneyDown the drain.Swirling in a soggy mess.Do drugs, his friend said.Have affairs.They get you somewhere that isn’t here.He said wait. B.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/952856/ I enlisted the services of a team of surgeonsto carve my heart outof this cavity"my community chest.With jabbing knives they cutand cut and cut and cutfreeing the muscle this sack of feelingcovering theirshiny plastic aprons with clots of my blood(stringing spraying splattering)Their raving maws.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/952855/ Treasure seeker not a Treasure keeperslathered on the Skin-So-Softsmoothingmy goal somewhere along the skinof things “It has many uses,” claimed theAvon lady her eyeliner sharpied into hieroglyphicsthat spell out DESIRE"so manywindows but n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/952851/ a poem inspired by Rilo Kiley's song "Portions For Foxes." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/952849/ a pity party in a paddle poolblood like geraniumfloweringblooming up and outI'm sorry when you chose this circusshell, that it was bowed and ganglyand its protruding spines gored youas they toppledWhile Shakespeare splashed across the screen--it made a printof madness--we drag our secrets, they.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/951332/ Jumping off of the empire state buildingis not an appropriate use of resources:That would be going to architecture school (after that degree in Business which turned out to be more fail than safe)What an idea: I love walls and ceilings and floors.People nod and seem impressed&he.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/951330/ They shot me fullof melatoninit burned me from the inside out.But sleep still won’tcome,california dreamin’ of phantom evilsand love (thought) lostI went outside to clear my headthe moon burns softer than the sunWaled and woded my wayin the wet grassmeasured the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrangeIrene/951323/