http://slow.writerscafe.org/mistysmuse The original writings of author Kristina Moulaison en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776004791 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Autumn marks a slow internalbleedWhere I feel life curl inside of me Close its eyes, slow itsbreath, and lie down  My heart, slowing, fallingMoss swelling in thewet earthAs sky soaks into ground The river rises to flushout each dead leafAn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/2963079/ Getting in the shower is the hardest part(too many voices to steer around in the hall)even when a baptism is just what I need. My daughter’s unwashed hair haunts melike a rattling voodoo chain of shell and bonewhere curses fall and scurry, wanton, across the floor. I must go somewher.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1994112/ restless stirring fingers tap in time with hot flash surgesfrantically refreshing the pagelike tiny manic New Year’s resolutions keeping time like a heartbeatwhen we have seven stacked emailswe delete them, hang the accomplishment like a talisman around flushed necks, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1993133/ My fruit is anything but strangeIt is a default, ‘flesh-colored’ meat, with primly folded handsIt sprouts a pale flower on a nightshade vineAgainst a transgressive slate of unworthy starsMy fruit is a white star wafting from a grey-scaled rootMy peel carries a translucent insultUnder the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1979877/ I have my mother’s fur coat, its shield againstthe cold fire of eyes, a sable stare in regretI have the jolt of my daughter’s screams as I force her into a hot pink top, her slick searching fingers questioning the coversI have walking in - my son’s pants around .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1973028/  My son’s record player skips years off my life, drowning port holes in my summer mouthHe lays Playboys, like Spring, on top of the dresser I fold over themlike laundry, my toys earmarkedin the bedside drawer, my own mother’sjewelry still lock.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1972992/ What can we keepWhat things will keepWhat will keep usWhat can I learn from this soilFrom these souls that lie in the groundWe inhale the smoke, exhale the smokeAnd waitInside tepees of sticks and skinsWith fire at their centerThe air burns in our bodiesI built a birdhouse, in the form of a chu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1970957/ Mother -she has written me a heart attacklines like octopus armsword suckers on tentaclesred X’s dangle over childhoodlike clown mobiles bobbing toslow carnival musicgirls play dollsanimate plastic receptaclesthey can pour over dreamsmannequins to hang emotions onin cloth and papergirls hang o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1970956/ I am the slave master’s daughterpulling squares of sugar-coated bodiesout of black soilfingering pain -taking test bitesand shelving themfor harvest skins bound to paperwhile Iswing, blue eyes to heavenbathed in golden lightwhile bro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1969042/ walking sand dunes tomy standing stone -footprints blown with thewind -stripping silks to drift on air,pulled from a hungry clown's sleeves… with five decades past, I am… piling papers to shred,leaving manageable slices of grie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1968008/ As I was reading of the mechanisms of an industrial age,the clock on the wall skipped in its chiming;a stutter in the artery -anachronistic specterof blaring clicks,winding. It resumed, then, its steady rhythm.To my astonishment, I found that it is al.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1967748/ In venerated halls, you spill yourself over stone -drape fences, frame shuttered eyes, reach steeples alive with swinging bells. We invite thehaughty appetite which swallows institution and home, an insulated robe tocover crackswith green facade. Across an .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1964385/ Stray seeds skitter under doorframes,plant themselves between synaptic cracks. Parched gravel bleeds yellow-greenpeople-sized flowering doubt, balloons of toxic breath. Watering cans spill blue-blackmemory, bright oxygen for fire. Red-orange blooms nursed in wasting, ivory arms, weakf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1907936/  Temptress witch, a worthy vesseltocarry our sin through fire to anangry god. We absolve ourselves the lustofsurvival, purchasing eternity aswe watch our mortal desire rise in flame,shamingthe womb its wicked betrayal oftransient&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1907342/ I am piling pieces to burn, cuttingnail-pockedhemlock into chunks, metal teethsawing someone else’s name from wood. Iam demolishingthis house part by part, a meticulousdeath. Rebuilding resurrecting; fresh sheets of firand whitened trim infusing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1907332/ Fallen twigs from last seasonPile beside the firepit Leaves crumble under my Winter bootsI spy the old chair I won at an antique mallAmong the quiet rubbleIt whispers accusations As if I have caused this disrepair The thickening of arteriesIn its wooden legs S.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1898201/ we float down the river, and stand in circles as eager hands fold us into shape, each more skilled than the next. frozen in sunlight, agreeing through silence,cold fear growing heavy in our chests; dead-hot flesh without breath. little girls know how to bepla.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1898200/ I can hear the other shoe About to drop, as I am Recursively walking up and down the stairs-Dust askanse-Forgetting what I came forFolding paired socks, putting away theSame dry towelsRemembering I Love you, Is it too late?I am picking out the empty hangersCounti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1893540/ You are the sun and moonAnd Venus, bright and bareAlight with pearl and ivory robeA translucent caressing dareThat plays in shadow, a loomThat weaves alluring locks inRopes of crimson hair, a welcomeShackle, whose bosom beckons, invitesThe broken door that bleedsF.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1884575/ This chipped paint, the missing trimThe faint, black fingerprints left in the ceilingWhere you hung the wrong lightThis is my songThe mother that did not love me rightSeeing too much of her own mother reflected in my eyesFathers that had alreadyGiven up the fight,too sp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1884303/ Daddy loved me like an afternoon TV commercial,like ice cream licked from the bottom of a bowlwhen no one’s looking, his tongue searchingcold and sweet. At the beach there’s a picture of meon a rock. I am looking to the side,shielding my eyes from something too bright while daddy is.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1880438/ Her eyes are vacant as stone statuesthat cause me to flutter around her like tinybirds afraid to land. They dance against the wind,nervous leaves receiving intel. Her shackles conjure walls.They fix her to the earth, where I am free to fly.She looks past me. I am.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1880433/             Whenwe were girls, I remember Becca holding my hand as we crossed the street,licking her fingers to wipe smudges off my cheeks before we got out of the car.Later, the three years between us stretched into miles. I would stand on theporch of our split.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1880274/ Set me adrift.Watch the crackled paint of my fledgling gunwalelurch from side to side, bobbing like a nervous buoy,my hull blinking its uneasy S.O.Stoward a shrinking sun.Do not let the rope burn your delicate hands.Throw it instead, sloppily. I will heave it handover han.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1880267/ Poppies kneel, flaccid as fishRays of light gripping their skinny necksA corona’s bright song pressing down like choirs Girls no bigger than mother’s smooth thighPull little skirts over tight knees Boys peaking over cookie jars to see what they’re hidin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1776109/ Sunset has painted the sky in lullaby bluewith orange, red radiant strokes. Sea frothfoams as gentle crests break and draw againstlenient sands. Everything speaks quiet andI know I should feel wide, let the breeze whispersoft promises in me. But I don’t.It is now that I loo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1776106/ A paper egg lies crushed under my feetin robin’s speckled blue, a shattered mosaicwet with ooze, and I think of a babies’fine, thread crown, their soft unfusedheads bobbing, moist beaksshaking for wiggling worms, made to expand and crush, ordai.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1775720/ Another Charleston story http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1775674/  Nervous leaves sway and tremble, hanging on to spindly whippingarmsthat rise and fall like frightened octopus appendages,pausing haphazard, aloft, seeking succor A solitary bench rolls by like sullen laundry, a tumbleweed of steely arms and legsfashioned .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1775435/ 100 word story http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1753017/ I am growing rings. Each fine linefound on the backs of my handsand around my eyes tell a story,as a tree trunk that is opened to thewind,is counting years.Flowers bloom and are gone,food for the thoughts of futureblooms. Mine is a restless seedthat will wind its way into the r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1600302/ This room feigns silencewhile all around, clouds of cacophonyreflection gather;wide roads jammed with pregnantballoons of possibility,clown heads making a mockeryof joyous cataloged eventsThey make chase around the carousel inmy headstealing air with long, sharpenedneedlesThose.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1600245/ Who is this specterthat is always with me- these visions of my own trepid spiritconstantly flung beyond thesehours?I haunt my own dark halls.All the years of my lifealready plowed under, rowsof days mounded and punctuatedwith seedling moments, a stringI wished would stretchbe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1600182/ Your pure beauty and innocence scream. My mind, a white blind cresting wave,consumed with the buttery perfection ofyourflesh, warm and pulsing, a wonder, compact-blaring its expanse in deafening roarsofwhispered finality.All your possibility lays like a stone,an anchor dra.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1600102/ My heart swellsand spills out, under my eyelidswhen I hear the applause after the orator's words,the athlete's chest lurching finallyforward,a violinist's bow pausing after thefinalwafted noteMy cells fall forwardwith the moonthat pulls the sea;its clear surface reflect.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1600096/ The washing machine just moved myhouse.One hundred year old studsgyrate in circlesas my clothes spin,and I am agape.A tornado has shorn occupantsfrom their houses today.Storage bins sit atop the opendollhousethat was their life's work,and I spin1,042 miles per hour over Jupit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1513351/ One by onethey walk into the nightand I am lefton a pierfacing the sunsetalone-my words,all that remainto carrythe weight oftheir story. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1508023/ The pillow soaked up words, worldsfloating into focus on platform cloudsspilling onto the quilted coverleta smooth hewn surface of fanciful realityHe lived in the small crevices in andbetween and almost entirely inside the magic trunk that was his mindpeeking through a veil of curtain .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1508020/ Fly's in the buttermilk,Shoo, fly, shoo blood tinged wakingfills up shadowed binsold promises incrackled sidewalkspastel chalkseeping into earthswirling mutedforget-me-notsvisiblein stone crevicesLostmy partner,What'll I do?when westill believedwe couldjump outsid.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1508015/ Shelay there cowering on the floorspittingand screeching, taking it.Hewas a bear dressed in man skin,wildwith fury, coming at her, blind.Never,she said, never again,withher broken bones to witness.Stillbefore they had set, andevenbefore the sun came down torest,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1508002/ A corner patch of dirt and trees, theholdingarea where a batch of us waited,measuringthe most vulnerable parts of each otherOn the first day, my accent wasn'tright, my hair too short, my name the perfectpunch lineI shuffled between boys who kicked atmy heels One day.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1507997/ There will be a thousand days like this, she saidher face to the sunlightWe will walk along shores, uncharted conversationsrolling over sand, hearts swelling, love in handWe will revisit, commemorate, practicethis abundance of empty blissful hours,collect them like shells on an endless.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1507993/ Spiraling inward, this big bangFibonacci god-taking apart the fine petals ofcreation( heads swimming with the patterned leaves,their secret tremors, belly dancer'sfinger cymbals)and peek underneath, dissect eachnumeral, rubthe hummus glue across our palm and letit dry, pe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1507990/ She's at it again-head hung over columns of numberssmartly dressed with the hintof a halo, the light shimmeringoverhead. All around files, carefully kept, her fingersnibbled down to the raw edge.Portraits to the sidewith smiling faces, cheeryeyes full of anticipation and plent.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1507987/ This crisp, frost tinged sprigshoots forth from harsh groundand I gape, staringin awe of its substance,fire ready to lick cleanthe fine coveringit wears, unawareits fragile sheath is so paper thinLayers of barkpeeled like skin from a ripe appleexposing wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1488336/ I walk softly on the earth,don't let my footsteps echo too loud,tiptoeing,chewing softly, so as not to intrude.Seeing how short my years are, how soon my footsteps will recede intothe distance,I should rather walkboldly,walk loudly,walk to make animprint,my words echoing fo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1473019/ Climbing hills to their summitto see as far as I dared,the ends of the earthhow they tilted and swayedand buckledunder the weight of my stare.I stacked worlds of words into towers,tried to swallow as much wisdomas a poor stomachcould hold,went hungry to fathomthe dept.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1407176/ A Sonnet...ISH :/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1348185/ Will I everget home...quit wandering thesedankstreets alone, nothin' in my pockets but lintandregret?  Twenty dollars off an hour's hollowcompanyonly pays one night's rent, so now I'mgoing froman alley trash tent to a piss stainedmattress ona bloody floor.  But t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1345557/ Itwould have been much toodangerous totalk about, the cursethat was eating him, that there wasnothing I could really do to stop it.Iwas a hell bent apothecary, readingscientificpapers like a sorcerer lookingforjust the right spell. I was grinding pillsintofin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mistysmuse/1344638/