http://slow.writerscafe.org/marygale The original writings of author Rosalind Gale en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776033964 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Desolate words wither, Icarus like -The half-spun moon tarnished in sunbeams.Life, in life so far apart. An opaque icicle.I try to write, blood ink wax and wanes, transparent.A dying candle laments an empty bed - Just a tiny hint of scent remains. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/2120909/ It used to be the barren land - women fell away.I stand upright under a small cloud,The arching black earth-squareTied down as the laces of a human heartWhen I fell into the darkness, I exitThe stomach of love, the chattering shelf,The father of mortar enlarges me,He fell to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1975503/ Sublime and experiencedIn the ordinary random thingsThat never keep at bay the joyOf smooth floors and straight frame,The old man outside the hospital gatesNaked blue, runs roughshodOutside his separation of graniteAnd unbreakable statues,Head in the clouds, vibrant as a tigerStalking through the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1972423/ I did not care what he was doing when the weather sank tostaticUnder the empty road, the pallid flatness, the grey horizon.Did he shatter our clasped hands? It is not thatimportant to know.Did he lie down, deaf to it all?Outside the city the bicycles whisper by like the soulless.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1840623/ Oh usefulness, oh usefulness, tomorrow, indifferent remembrance.To do everything, to caress an ugly swelling, and thenruffle it.Numbers, cardboard boxes, wheelchairs. A grotesquely huge human husbandThere, smile, smile.Barren and left unloved. Switch-faced.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1749817/ A poem I wrote in 2015 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1574160/ Ampersand lover, oh these demonic sentences made of satanic letters,Let me out, let me in. Continents of Igloops. Consonants. Shoop, shoop.Oh pour your heart out, baby. See! Hear! Die bounty!You are going to ride over me, roll me over, ssh. Let us playMonopoly, let us play Bill Hicks records.No, non.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1534177/ For Dana, with love - http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1485755/ White cops, white vehicle, two white smooth-metal jackets.Where do the white cops go that thirst here?Their bodies are hidden by America. A glaring nothing is cast inwardly from the dry brushwood.Their brittleness wants us to slow down and stop.They are triangular and be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1386144/ As a child, Iloved visiting the reptile garden, it always seemed so alien to me. I felt at home. Then one day I have a blood test, and I am told I am “rare” -RH negative, in fact. This would explain why so many men appear not my type. Then I begin to understand why.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1382586/ Down in the park Miles from home, Nature’s beauty torments and admonishes. My envy plows the hue, Trenched then stuck -As a trodden knag. You do not love me The way I want you to. You love somebody and that Matters, Matters even more now. You gestated for a while, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1381576/ Stretches its sinewy veins, its frail earth dried and boned. No one walks alongside me, This path is a tomb.   Black scattered light, that is the stars fused and blown. Their fading flickering scratches the face of you, A sore, a bauble that hangs like blood Dew.   A drop.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1381574/ (Or "Storm over Alabama") http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1381571/ The blasted heath cuts straight into grey.Animals and cloverTurn away smiling. I make them happy. The bicycle has no trail of fumes.The half-fastSnail, her colorless shellShuffling in giddy silence.  Some of this evening theEvening has been sunlit.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1381557/ Dredging, but never cleaning meout, Or it, or anything at all that has been before. True roots tangled, anchored deep in witnesses -Devouring my clear eye. The ground above is soft, Mud thick with jackboot printsIn all directions and sizes Crushing their Struggle onward. Mar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1380833/ Lady Macbeth,Hank Chinaski, Phoebe Caulfield,Patrick Bateman, Lucy Pevensie, Sodapop Curtis,Tralala, Stanley Kowalski, Epiphany Proudfoot, Willy Loman - Esther Greenwood. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1371065/ The tale of Scariot Stark, as related through The Cranks, is not mentioned in theHoly Biblosor in any other chroniclebecause it is pure allegory in itself, not a fact.Consequently, similar to the Wichita Sidewalk-Girls debate,It has provoked an amount of fish market chatter, and a number ofbat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1339786/ To John, with love and squalor - http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1339247/ A grimacing clay water bottle exhilarates me.Dour black freezing in the skin of my forgotten lover,I am deaf to her lame silence.Stuck in her mouth are vowels and consonants,They stay there, like punches pulled.It is end of days in her world: unscrupulousIdeas stay dirty and hide away.I do not give .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1275327/ A balsa wood ship, silhouetted against the shrieks -Bends to a silent shore.Your green eyes lollop low, red wisps kiss curl away,Moon's light rustles through my smile, herSweetness of shallow breathing. Milk that will never sour.Oh my glorious one, your pale mountainous cheeks,Little win.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1274402/ For Juliet http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1202825/ Dedicated with love to Wichita, Kansas, to pregnant women everywhere, and to my mom - http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1162380/ Bursting, I thud onto the fullest of all pathways -Near empty room with only dust, blank walls,Sealed porch, square built.In my yard, rain drenches and drenches.Full of heart and observing all the world.Near bloomed roses,Inhaling their sweetness, a red perfume.I am alone.The children of others, scr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1112709/ The 'Rainbow' is a particular type of Wichita institution - http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1071072/ Shelled, cratered. My structure obliterated.Hurt hard for flailing. I want you.A simple thrall, I would wear. Sticky picks do not stick -I cannot breathe. Quilted within the throes, I askWhat is the time?The final chamber, unsubtle -The bends, the crunching bolt,I have no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1047898/ Laid, well and oftenBy ladies, and women tooNon-discerning, me. Times, on cocaine, ICrumble and do not demurTo the weaker sex. While androgynous,Still, these men fill some yearning - One that kicks them out. I am not a girlTo be take.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1034270/ Sulking,Like a wronged child -I sit in a pool of red.I had not before heard the wordsBeing spoken on the wireless -An afternoon play to see out these finalMinutes, interminable to the end.The metronome voicesAnd guillotine script would quicker killThose weaker tha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1028607/ I desire a dead end line. No children to bind my past orfutureDays. I cannot bloat forever -I will not deceive my lover. Had I raised from some creelA mass of blubbering flesh,Swaddled warm -Tight as a heart attack,Pressing the mite close to myJibber-trench.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1028593/ I worship this high.I need pills, sweetheart,To blink white, brown, tears on my powdery face.Love to wake with junkieGirls -Love their dirty ways and needlesFor eyes.The smell of dead sex-Filled air lurks and smothersMy dilated heart.The bleak mirrorClaws forth a cracked corpse.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1028582/ Dedicated to Icaros13 - http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1028580/ Bloody cankerous psyche, shifting from oneBlack lap of scrutiny, piercing, To the lucid shriek of the altar -To the sluice.Flooded love's abuse, wave after wave.My levee cracked, breachedBy this glorious torrent,Swilling alongHis murderous maelstrom,Of deplora.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1017972/ Single white female, very lonely,Seeks companion to jump over cliff.Cliff, 50, shy male. New to fetish scene. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1015989/ "The delicate brushwood of the bowerGives haven to the scarlet roses -The North Winds clatter and die.Swathed in a haze of twilight scentOverflowing with pearly dewdrops.What sultry seduction this is -Inflaming the frailButterflies and quick-tempered bees..."My heart .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1010853/ The quiet snarl of a gas oven smothers me.Colorless strings, my veins bulging like meat in pigskin.I hear only a slow tick. My heart that once purred -Now reducing itself, filtering out all the blood inside it.Me the feline, monoxide kisses, hisses to a carcass. Carbondates the pas.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1005285/ A report is coming in that a large amount of poetry has beenfound dead. The poetry was found near Parliament Hill Fields early thismorning by a man walking his dog. The man, a Mr Frost, said he normally doesnot take that particular route to the fields, but decided that morning to .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/1002644/ Man is flawed.His dead soul replete of shade.The physical, a Brechtian outsider -Spits, talks to audience nakedBut for bloody ankles,Keeps saying, move on, move on. Many souls soar, rare grey doves.Each rare grey dove Its wings clipped, eyes ruthless, knows n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/997528/ In the wide deep four golden sharks shatterThe razor shell mask of the breathing beggar.Razor shell sharks leap over a razor shell sun.The long days are drawn out.A razor shell mourner on footWhistles slow dirges on a loud tongue.Steadily a calm wave caresses the sea grass At the sho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/992164/ A skinny colorless drained soulThat spits out nothing keeps a constantJoyful stasis, notAsking for anything.A skinny colorless drained soulRefutes the vagaries of stasis -Observing us all.All indications stay rootedAs they are left unsigned.All life becomes unique -Suggesting a meeting, seenBy empti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/989340/ A northern breeze ghosts over the lake,The moon sits still over the trees -Spring has come early. Fallen blossom is scattered amid the cocktails andShiny gold ribbons -He listens to the singing in a giddy haze. Across the flagstones, stilettosClick their way toward him.One .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/958046/ Hollow words leave without a trace -The moon tilts a crescent of half-spun promises -Dreams, in dreams so far apartCalling to each other - Unheard.In haste I try to write, the ink wanes, transparent.A candle’s glow laments an empty bed -Just a tiny hint of scent remains. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/957613/ The cracks in my hands are black -As I mourn everything you once were.The fireplace is sunk in ash,All clocks have struck dead -Our house palesAs the cold blunt sun diesWith me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/marygale/957507/