http://slow.writerscafe.org/antoniowithana The original writings of author Anthony J en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776022655 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The sounds shed their cellophane, hydrate, sizzle into being.What was salted freshens: Our minds like vessels,ships listing on the secret wavesthat our bodies must take onbefore the music can be entered.Suddenly a crest gathers, like wheat for scythes of sun. Something i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1773291/ Impossible now to write downthe still center of the momentwhen I was in your arms in yourbreath, my soul a cloud-draped moon.In the space between us there was no writing. The poems that scream dailyacross the midriff of the sky had slitheredinto slender re.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1726068/ Altogether too carelesslywe were playing in the trafficof each other’s smiles. Only yesterdayour gallivanting answered to a short knifewhen crows ripped the love from our eyes.We recall our injustices, pull funny new faces, and play on.In overcrowded rooms we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1697118/ With memories embedded in the hailat my heels, I cut wholly to my centerto address what was trembling. My heart’srapid beat too terrified me, soI asked how he was carrying on(he knew not how he fared)and I lost all knack for crying soinstead sat scared.I so badly need you to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1664762/ The rusted blue windows appear new.They hang not as they hung last nightwhen memories clung like icicles to my eyesand I could not see past my hands. Tonight I can see an inch past my big toe.Gusts of wind through the bent airfeel textured of brown parcel paperstretching across the days I am no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1650412/ The streetlights were devout in their daylight habitsas they watched the stars forgetting us. Beneath that cosmic wreck, I saw you in a blue slipstream of a sundress, laughingin your flailing way that resembled polite drowning.There was potential in the air. Visions of fresh holes in my hands,m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1649710/ Let’s you and I soon scheduleA day-trip up that scraggly hillTo where the fog falls like cinder blocks,And every beautiful thing hangspast the hazy rocks. I’ll grab hummus, andprobably pita bread,jam it in a canvas bagcluttered with journals,and we’ll picnic with the beesin th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1644979/ I asked if there was room left in your heart for one more. You gazed lasers through your ratty sneakers and sighed.Inside the pauses in your questions is where I’d build a home with a hard-thatched roof in case the answers ever hurricaned down.But now I know that your innermost place is mor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1636836/ I.I’ve built my heart like Los Angelesand still it sprawls out edgelessly. I fear the gridlocked way it bustles for you.II.I would forgo a view of mountains (eventhe serried kind with waterfalls)just to stand next to youlike mountains.III.The meteorologist in my soulleft for Seoul some time ag.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1627315/ There is a certain distress comes tied with forgetfulness. That we might forget our loveis a truer mutilation than death,somehow more deeply rooted.But perhaps the real mark hitswhen we savor this forgotten thought;taste its rarity and abandon acutely.Maybe this.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1615557/ Screw cemeteries,when I stop breathingbury me under a factorythat makes pianos.Not for the music,  no point in that,but for a piano’s willingnessto preserve the passions of dead men.In my cement mausoleum,each quality test of middle Cwill be a hymn to Chopin, who diedquietly in the fading.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1610947/ Let there be a cathedral of the mind, divorced from any skull.Hovering above our bodies like a dove flying it’s constellations in the sunset, all silver and wings; indecipherable.Let this be our place of pause when the billowed clouds of distance&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1603220/ Nobody knows what they are doing, we are all dying. Break one glass item per week to celebrate your impermanence. Join a religion, they are generally beautiful and full of genuine smiles. Only look into your neighbors weed stash to ensure he has enough. Listen to opera and marvel at .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1603215/ I thought you were a parachute.Now instead the trees are pillows.Last May I dipped in pitch and lit my heartin slapdash effigy of the way the sun bounces off your eyes. Silly of me. Clandestine at bestof course but I’d rather be stupidthan inanimate, an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1584001/ I planted a tree, and postponed my master plan:to die. It lifted my spirits to imaginea future shoot sprouting up from nothing, with filamentsand cells bunched to something singular and greengrasping out to a handshake sky. I taste dirt.Tonight the stars are at arms lengthand the empty parts around .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1546345/ (to Frank O'hara) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1544870/ The world over smells like wet inkas I eat plain yogurt under Californiaskies. There’s so much to dream aboutin this year’s dissection, such infinities already dreamed up in the yesterday-parts. You say I’m so important to you, friend-wise, and here I’m stuck .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1543298/ Well it's blue old 12:24 a.m. and the sun is bright  somewhere not  here and I think I’ve struck the right balance of ennuiand sleepiness to sit here on a comforter and write youa poem. The words so far seem to do what I tell them, mostly,which is a strict prerequisite for a poem s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1541992/ Dream me in vectorsshooting between stasis and obsession,with levers and pulleys yankingwords from nonexistenceinto the lines of my poems and palms.Dream me lying in white between lines of strict verse,for I could never rhyme elegantly awake,and I should like to sleep t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1540063/ my love, my city, my friend.A place whose heart I cannot encase or even hope to.You, whose streets are visceral shifts churning in liquid wind to overflow the cups of collective imagine.The distance of your faces, each the integral parts of their walls and bricks, who dream of cha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1537199/ Grass blades licked our feetunderneath the lemon tree.The purple powder of sky,blown from the old workbenchlike sawdust.You were six and I three,enclosed in playhouse of fiberglasssplinters. A wood fence was the border of our country,flag of kleenex symbolizing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1537156/ Sunshine fugitive runs away,melts old bay to purple shivers,fire alarms, horns of drunk conversationblare behind thin surfaces.We'll make time for timeunderneath a rustier sunwith beams of sharp rock candyTomorrow's stars will bloom from the seedswe planted in each others tongues and ribs and souls... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1536511/ for WCW from a fan http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1534271/ the downtrodden in berkeley and everywhere http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1532695/ I threw black holes into your eyesto try to make your blinks last forever,but your pupils swallowed them without difficulty.Your glances had me feeling like a singularity,small enough to hold everything inside.There we were, after the big bang,trying to cook up another one&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1530909/ micro-haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1529503/ You’re the Hobbes to my Calvin.Because we adventure through the mystic woodswith backpacks full of dreams and grilled cheeseand think about life and death andtalk freely.But really you’re just a projection-One of my brain’s flashlightshadow-puppetsdark-edg.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1529462/ Kurt was a flash floodthat sputtered out fast.Half Vonnegut,Half Cobain,He wrote sonnets to mourn for better pastsand hosed his brain off daily onto butcher paper.His life was a book he closed halfway throughcause he didn’t want to spoil the ending.His girl was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1529434/ Her eyes are head wounds.I must kiss them closed.Time is white waterand we are a dry canoe. His eyes blow darts through mine and tranquilize the brain-spot where  love used to live.I will buy a tow trucklarge enoughto drive all of her penniesto the wishing well. I am growing older .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1526675/ for the albatrosses of Midway Atoll http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1524825/ a haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1524816/ thank you for telling us your story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1524596/ an exercise in narcissism http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1524333/ “I think I might be depressed”is not the best way to kick off a drunk text.But in my defense, my cell phone was melting in sync with the walls,and honesty was leaking out my fingertips.  I had to tell you about it.Sorry about that, by the way. It was way to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1523976/ On the fire escape in slanted night, we watched San Francisco and you told me I was scattered out there under the lights.Under each streetlamp there were 100 myselves I’d never meet and one day, the Anthony that was me-here-touching your shoulder would die. and none of the people under the lig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1523952/ something that's been eating away at me for years. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1523668/ She made pancakes really badly, but she thought they were amazing. When she made them she crinkled her mouth into origami. Tiny wrinkles. Creases of Concentration. Her eyes would flick up into me for an instant like she was an affectionate, skittish kitten. Every weekend morning, I made the c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1523380/ For the man I never met. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1523357/ Your eyes are falling bricks, water-ballooning into white doves before hitting the ground,Twittering through ear canals,inverting my heart into stained glass.Your camisole flaps in the windand reminds me of the world of limb baskets,stretched to catch the falling men.Around waists.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1522910/ There were specks of spacetime sprinkled on your lips like confectioner’s sugar.The perfectionist in me said wipe them off,but then you kissed me and I saw tomorrow’s sunset. We were picnicking in front of it during a wicked storm. The lightning was styling our hair.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/antoniowithana/1521745/