http://slow.writerscafe.org/BPark68 The original writings of author Brian Park en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776099276 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 the sky is a purplenot unlikethe rain starved sagebrittle underfooton the horizon a violent storm ragesonly to be seenthunderclaps fading in the interim voidin the night the landis much harder to readthe secrets cloaked in (darkness) change here!!!the stars in the skyfollow a discernible patternthe .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1272866/ the echos arrive fasterthan her screampointing aheaddeeperinto the woodsswaying in the breezea stubborn autumn leafthe sunlight squeezes through the treesglowing softly on his pale skinfrail arms hang limp at his sidehands and feet point to the ground from which he cameand will momentarily returna t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1183066/ her eyes are widealertsilently screamingamidst all the commotionshe is stillfrozen in timeamidst the raging stormthe airis thick and dampheavy and electric(you can feel itin your teeth)  fixshe smells of staletobacco, aerosol hairsprayand too muchdrugstore perfumeshared wardrobewith the old lad.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1175826/ it smells sterile and scaredyearning to be someplace elsebuttoo scared to miss gazing out the windowit was that time of daywhen the flowersfrom the treeswould fallpetals bounceoff small branchesresting gentlybrieflyon some lower limbbefore being releasedto touch the earth and dieafter enough timeeve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1175823/ softly floating  from a nearby treethe call of a capeturtle dovemy mother is deadmy father is deadall my relatives are gonemy friends, once so dearhave all gonethere is only meI am this treestanding silent in a barren landmy branches have been cutby sharp steely kniveskerosine flameshave burned.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1171418/ if your not in a hurryyou cant help but noticethe soundthere is so little of itand it's orchestrated solelyby the windwailing, howling, hummingor as on this eveningwhisperingsifted through the silkon the dried stalks of cornoften as a boy id dream I could gently floatacross verdant fieldsfeelin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1167050/ it is coldcolder even than beforequietlungs at the topof a breaththe stillness forces itselfinto every shadowan emberpulsing, perchedon the precipiceall that we perceiveis already in a sense pregnantwith the futurethe horizon carries the promiseof something more, something new, somethingbetterthe lo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1152806/ his eyes are bloodshotvacant and feralrolling fromleft to right to leftfaded tattoos of incarceration adorn his arms, neck and faceDaffy Duck smiles widelyon the tattered yellow shirthanging looslyfrom his gaunt frame the scars on his bodymark sad chapterslost battlesfollyhe is huntingstalking .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1151737/ two empty black shoespolished, laces neatly tiedsit aloneby the side of the roadmark the passingdust from the screeching tiresstill floats in the   airso hot and thicklike drowning slowlyracing through the empty streetsthe dark hooded crow  huntspurging enemies withinhuman carrionher face,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1138261/ the air is so thingaspingwarm sunlight caught in the greenand brown shardsembedded along the top stout brick wallstained glass securitya ghostsits quietly hunched  back to the wallhiding in plane sightwatching the passing cloudsthe passing of the dayfor a few pesoshe will toss the bones and she.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1137754/ I worked for a while for an organic farm delivering produce to cites across the Colorado front range, some of the characters in my poetry are taken from this experience http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1135980/ two parallel pathscold ironsnake through the thickness  fecundthe air heavy with the breath of so much lifeemerging from the dense foresta few scattered structureshide amongst the trees timidly looking through the holes in a make-shift enclosure ofbroken pallets, orange plastic fencing,branches.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1135978/ All noise, all lifeabruptly put on pausestopped still her motion erratic and brokensomething queerlimp wrist shaking irregular pattern not waving, beckoning, or pointing conducting soundless musicfor just a momentwe were nowhere elsein exactly this place and this timeher frail body, buried.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/BPark68/1135974/