http://slow.writerscafe.org/letterstoparvati The original writings of author letters to parvati en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776195868 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 every wishevery whisperevery flush of my cheeksare but reflections of youof your love for meof your sacrifice to save the life i do not hold dearmy lifea shamble of wood and cement, glass and plasticencasing my only gift to youa gift i have kept to myself, for fearfor jealously.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/382208/ How many faces do I see when I think of you? A snow shower of you, smiles, green eyes, soft hair, light and dry, cool and cumbersome like chilled white wine. In a glass. After a fight. Before we make up, make love.We fell into each other like down in a pillow. My tears are for happy times, an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/372833/ I am not your friend. I will live to watch the end of you, to see you feel sorrow and squeeze tears of blood from your eyes. I am not your friend. I will engage in you, bring happiness to your morbid life when you need most the strength of a sister. I will turn coat, turn colors, turn heads in my fi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/347376/ I was not born yet when Pete Seeger wrote his songsand gave us folk with his banjo and his smileI was not born when 'red' meant more than colorand a ballad to free speech was met with rocks in car windowsI was not born in the bottom stratabut in a pool of wealth from loveI'm not a writer.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/270895/ I had a friend I haven't seen for 3 yearsShe walked with no shoesShe cried with no tearsShe left me a smoke pipe, a book, and a songThen turned to the sun, and then she was goneI'd rather not rememberIt hurts to say her nameI lie to keep the secret of her lifeWhen she'd gone and when.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/270894/ regional inclement weather delayed my arrival at a diner3:00AM...i fastened myself to a booth, picked up a napkin i made dirty with lipsticki kissed sorrowful poems on itsad words and flightless birdsink dark and grainy like homemade films in the '70sthe coffee was hot, thick, steaming hie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/221832/ when i was young, my Aunt Nadia told me to live happyto dance on Saturdays til 3am& go home with men that you may or may not lovebut were funshe had two husbands, the 1st disappeared & steered clear of her crazinessthe 2nd couldn't leaveeven when she left the carpets dirtyate o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/211616/ why can't i write like writers dofull of ballyhoo & hip hopslamming to a beatteaching a songright or wrong, it's the rhythmnthat catches the eyelip parades smacking a soundthat can only be foundin writing by those who've lived http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/211612/ straight up with a twistThe Players Theaterin an Indian holein a red brick wallBollywood on the radio curry & chicken & breadin the right handthe hand used for writingand thinking with wordsJay-Z on the radio hot chai with 2 packs of sugarmixed, feeling li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/211606/ i slept with a woman on a wooden floorin a room dark and viscouswith a scent my mother ran from as a nuni was brainwashed to be a good Christianto like penisesbut she came to me one day and said she liked my hairmy long fingers and my upper lipher hands crawled under my clothes and wro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/letterstoparvati/211596/