http://slow.writerscafe.org/jbh0012 The original writings of author john holt en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776244894 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 In sword-war,when the moonshines upon slick fields,the clank of bladeson stone fleckfrom granine walls,and the siege fails...  At the stone grounds,where blue air passesthrough square channelsin the rock, where ivydrips its constant moisture,in the corners of boulderspiled high from thestone do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/1054214/ I walk through scentlesssterile trees,void of pollen in the still air--This land is vast withinits borders, was a seaonce in prehistoria,shell-bits aredriveway gravel, theautomobiles, their overwhelmingnumber are the pre-ancient seawaves when morning clouds mockedpas.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251999/ We are watching thewaters flowing in thegreening gutters, along thecity walls, themiles of brickwork atsunset. The streets arelittered withsoiled papers,sheened inwhite smoke, therain turns into nightas the moon falls, thewills of menwork as one,becoming a swelling tide.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251997/ Illusion of wind, grayness,painfull crackling haze,none other than mist,blurred fog, vapors--what were men before ships,how came them crost the sea?how came them to the castle?with wings, or withinsome thing's belly?or by translation?what were menbefore boats,before sword.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251995/ "....speaks of dreamsas though theyreally happened.""within me swimall things in theseven seas...." "...then ten thousandglass spherescollide as a single sun inreverse explosion...""...and every human heartimplodes in a rattle ofmuffled pops, as rifleson a distant hill." http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251994/ Every night's beginning is theimpossiblity of theend, and then thesun rises.Dreams took me,seas were crossed,passages made."Beware. "A red objectmoves toward you." How long withoutloveliness till thecreation?How long did wewait with nothing? Five thousand&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251993/ the sound of autossplitting the air abovethe dryest stone:it is not hard to pretendthat they are waves of the sea instead.to go to where thereis a rainy season, totravel to the gatesof macbeth's castle, toawait the moor's dawnin cloak and torchlightwith sentries and spears.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251991/ Clouds moving past a prehistoric sun, theglade is silent,separate from thecrickets' lonely chatter. Wild spearmint isgrowing nearby inshots of green, itsleaves are found at thecreek's edge,cooling the water.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/251915/  the sedge-meadowis silent all morning,its snakes are silentas they pass throughthe blue-green blades. varigated and drawn,it is hard to tellthe garter from the grass,the viper from brown leaves,or to notice the cottonmouth'smovement at the stream's e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/249890/ and i ran out of the temple,and as i ran, a voice cameto my ears, the voice of a woman,and when i turned to see fromwhence it came, my eyes wereset upon the image of awhite-glowing goddess in togaand with hair as rolls of spun gold.and she bid me wait, and gave mea strange device t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/230595/ And the sea said, forminga wide mouth from its swells,"Long have I sought my watersto boil; I fear I shall never be rid of the things that dwell within me."and the fields said, in a feelingof fraternity with the sea,"I hope some day for flash firesin summer, wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/230594/  Amid the nighttime sea-chop,the sharp pigment foundin the white sunlightkindles blue fire onthe high breezes, andthe grand heirarchy of wind sprites,miniature gods of the high winds,are on the clouds, flyingall this and the wind still howls, all thisand i am still unmad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/230592/ when darkness descendson the sea, it hasthe quality of blue shadethrough dahlias, wherethe cliffs are high, andthe edge is uncertainand the sea was greenand we laughed longthough the wind wascold mid-summer and the gale was strongblindly, we strolledpast the eucalyptus .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/219698/ So I rose and went to theforest and sawgreen roots shooting from theunderneath of leaves, theleaf-rotted forest floor, thered-thorned natural rose. And sat beneath theidle brushlings, and thesolid beams of thesulphur sun rising,sugar made from chlorosfor the feedlings,fi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jbh0012/216208/