http://slow.writerscafe.org/Millionth%20Muse The original writings of author Millionth Muse en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776042811 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Twice, I have ventured backto that place that owns my youth,with words like rustic and countryrepeating in my head, like a record                          &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/524068/ Among the pines,needle-tipped towersscraping the sky,I find symbiotic solacein the enormity of solitude Footfalls are feathersagainst the forest floor,for as I walk, my presenceis blotted away by sunshineand summer squalls  Opposite the weeping riverI cross i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/523304/ Sheets of paper, characters in black ink,words, lines, perceptionsscored indelibly as ifsketched in concrete I visualize my mindon parchment, shreddedand pieced back togetherlike shadows pretendingto be tangible shapes These pages force me toexhaustion, whittle me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/521821/ On the line behind the house,twisted round and grown into two treesolder than the ownership of our land,mother hangs summer dresses in the sunlight. Like paper doll clothes, all primary colorsand geometric designs, they taunt the windas her hands, once young and tender, put them.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/520168/ It was almost February--livid skyline sinking into the city,moist air hanging like a mantle,  we locked ourselves out of the world,in your rented room behind the theaterwhere drunks panhandled for penniesand movies played all night long. You wore a t-shirt and jeans,hol.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/519476/ On the milky margin driftsa ship, rocking like a tired soldier,war-torn and indifferent beneaththe gauzy halo of the moon From the shore I watch her lurching,a to-and-fro motion that sets me dizzyuntil my vision is a narrow tunnelwrestling with the raging sea Frothing, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/518082/ Moonlight and memorieslike fine wine mixing with fresh airtwo forms convergebreathing,                      breathing,            &nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/516767/ These patchwork streetshave quiet heartbeatssecret histories shrouded in mossshadowed by the ghostly structuresof the white villages, rising, rising, rising into a sky of upside down ocean shinebleeding blues that steal your breathreplacing it with cravings of music and dance&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/516689/ Along the Spanish shore,where breeze and ocean dance the Flamencoin a glittering mix of moonlight and azure shine,she held his hand as if he owned the world Two were one beneath the trembling sky,fingers intertwined, a latticework of flesh and unanswered questions,ushered on b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/516627/ Yesterday’s coffee lingersin a cup near the sink,your fingerprints remainwhere the delicate tips cupped the warmth as breath weaved with rising steamand perfumed my world with comfort Sitting a safe distance awayI take vigil over what is missingbits and pieces of what us.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/515845/ For B.R. Written after his suicide. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/515566/ Blank…is this page, this canvas,words pirouetting like ballerinasinside of my mind, but fading, fading, fadingbefore they reach my pen, words with little minds of their own,daring to test the air in the real world,losing themselves as I stare  at rows of books .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/515182/ Barely audible…the sleepy sound of this city’s streets,the rain in august, andthe quiet droning of tomorrow’s dawn,when it’s only a possibilityand not a promise.Barely audible…the dripping of waterfrom the eaves of this house,that isn’t ours an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/515104/ Starlight breathed in hushed whispers,seraphic scrawling across a star-laden sky,tempting torrents of possibilities burnedlike candle light behind smoked glass, as I walked, head down, followingmy footsteps toward an ocean hued horizon,biting back the tightness in my chest,and t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/514976/ I like to take walks... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/513925/ Gazing out across the water,still and smooth with a sheen like glass,tangibly translucent and yet reflective enough to contain a second sky,my eyes linger on drifting hopes,caught by the slow current, wanderingaimlessly like bottles and bits of wood,and all at once I wish t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/513476/ Parting clouds hasten the charcoal embrace of night--Celestial dreams. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/512015/ Escaped pages soaracross a rain-slicked parkway--Magnum opus lost.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/511954/ An observation of Winter's end http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/511380/ The pit of my stomach aches for you,but I’m not sure about the rest of me.Our midnight rendezvous are getting tediousI always seem to be left wanting,but not for the reasons that you think. Charcoal skies bring tears of deliriumwhen I am in that dark placehalfway between r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/511016/ Fields of wheatthe color of my mother’s hair rolling rolling passed the hazy edgeof a blue clear horizonwith bursts of whitehanging in the stillnesswith no depth, no condescendence and I fall back onto the softnessbeneath a tree with gnarled bran.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/510995/   Under a full moon,I concentrate on my feetmelting through the sandand try a little too hard not to notice the derelictssettling in for the night,burying each other’s heads in the sandfor warmth, and the teenagers creating their own void like some witc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/510352/ Sunset swings on beams of dusk, a hue that reminds me of tomorrow,reminds me of the days that are still unborn, and I slide along the river’s edgemy footsteps skimming the delicate grassesbare against the softness, toes gripping,releasing, keeping my body erect as I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Millionth-Muse/510347/