http://slow.writerscafe.org/WBarrett The original writings of author W. Barrett Munn en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1779864488 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 ***Itmakes as much sensetobe mad at Godasit does to be pissedatOliver Twist. Those thingsfromthe minds of menremainin the wind,thereare no ghosts, no spirits.Allthat’s around is residueofthe fire that lit the writer’spassionfor storytelling.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135269/ ***I’m curious what I’ve beenchasing---Fame? I doubt it. All these4-wheel-drive scars weren’tpicked up in parlor gamessipping tea with the editorof my latest smash, best-sellingbook, the one that came to mein a dream, the dream I’ve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135264/ ***I walked all nightuntil I found the morningwith its inchoate sun leaninginto the turnlike a bike rider on a planetthat’s spinningat a thousand miles per hourwhile gravity hangs onat a thousand and one.I fear if I jump I may floataway,the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135256/ ***Thetailless black catcamecalling this morningcrouchinghidden where I feedthewild birds.Icould tell it had come as a hunter,itwas stalking, like the manwhowouldn’t leave my daughteraloneuntil we calledthecops on him, and they threatenedrealjail t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135180/ ***My name is Regret, a namenever allowed to pass my lipselse I’ll see the world againas it is outside this bottlethat’s inside a bottleheld fast inside another bottlethat’s filled with the darkest ink imaginable,ink that never fills a pen or touchesa brush’s fine hair bristl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135163/ ***I killed her.I can’t keep denying it.I tried to blame love butlazinessis the culprit. Ingredients arelisted.All I had to do was read beforeI fed Abby dog poisonin the form of garlic powderand onion powder that were ineach canI opened.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135106/ ***Hovering above a poppy-coveredhillside,darting one to another throughflower-coloredmist, the hummingbird followsthe path that instinct left eonsago.Rosa stops to drink. She’swearing a shawland long dark dress.When she moves, metal clangs.The hummingbird s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135105/ ***In Caney Creek, Arkansas,it’s impossibleto escape the scent---.Pine has permeated so muchthat skunkshave begun to sprayMr. Clean instead of stink, andthe fishand alligators in the swampywaterstaste like dollar-store cleanser.Cypress knobs wear dripping veil.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135039/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3135038/ ***Here I sit,astoic alone on a logabovethe road map of deer tracksIdiscovered two days ago.Hereand there melted bits of groundpeekthrough the brittletwo-day-oldsnow-pack;mybreath, steam above a factory.Silencerests against my left hip,asecond form that offers menowarmth In thi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134991/ ***Whensomeone looks at me,I changemasks to match,thesame way the moonchangesmoodsdependingon whether she receivesacasual glance from the sunora full-faced sincere courtesy.Andwhen I diethesame procession will allcomeby to look down in my casket---somewill see Venus, someOr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134966/ ***Falling light creates a stringacross the night and exposesthe dark side as a coward,fearful of the monsters that hideunder sunshine’s bed.The moon’s embarrassed absence---not even a sliver but a totalityof shame. The gutof an ever-expanding .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134901/ ***Thesame fellow whoalwaystaught in parableforegoesmetaphortosay, “This is my blood”?*** http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134897/ ***It’sdefinitely stuck.Ican’t budge it.Whydo old stickshavesuch affinity for mud?Thecar keys in his pocket---unreachable,cemented shutbytar that once strung gooey;it’lltake hours of hammeringonabout how other kids do ittobreak through .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134896/ ***Bill opened the wooden gate,walked in, and muddied hisungratefulboots. The pigs squealed.Here I am,said Bill. Dazzle me.One old sow had seen this gameplayed before. She sat on her hamand refused to share a baconslice.Smart old girl,said Bill.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134832/ ***The injured lover lies backand sighs. The wind, on wings,disseminates its passing thoughtsas water; hoarfrost foregoesany pleasure it may have knownin liquid moments. More windrushes in to fill the lover’sheartwith ice, leave the lungs, afrigid.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134827/ ***A dozen Oreo muffinstantalize from the kitchen table.Chocolate, not vanilla.My saliva glandstransmogrify into wetlandswhere water fowlrear their young in relativesafety, far away from the teethand gums, and the epiglottis,which exercises freedom of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134758/ ***Billcalled for help emptying outthirtyyears of neglect from Building 24,aWorld War II relic still standingonthe south end of campus and stackedfloorto ceiling with cast away metalandmismatched lumber. I startedbycarrying an armful of boards.AsI lay down my pi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134757/ *** Lordy, how I hopeI don’t come back a ghost.My wife’s hackles already risewhen I dematerialize a shirtshe bought me.  I think I’d make a fine demon, better demon than angel. I like it hot. And singing someone’s praises.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134705/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134700/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134676/ ***I want the luck, not the Irisheach with twelve potato-facedkidswe have to feed from ourabundancewhen hoarding comprises ournature.I want the luck, not the cloverthat’s invaded our nation,three-leafed or four, no moreforeigners is our bat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134670/ ***Thatfall, the city councilpassed the big bond issueto build a swimming pool.We kids almost peed our pants.Byspring, big digging machinesbeganto bring huge chunks upfromthe land..Bysummer, we swaminthe earth as deep as 8 feet,andit was goodtoopen our eyes underwater.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134613/ ***I am a swallow my epiglottis mustinterpretin order to send my intentions tothe right tube,not the tube, (which I neverfound), needed to repairmy 1962 RCA black and whitetelevisionWhole worlds came out of that box before the blink it went on tuned into dark... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134574/ ***It rained Monday night inMandalay.The woman were all wet; the mencould smell them. Mankind rushedto the church to find godmissing;hanging from the rafters the batsstill slept. Stalagmites borewitness;stalactites forced parishioners to bow their heads... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134549/ ***The river freezes.I walk on waterI don't become a god.The momentbullshit’s accepted as factbullshit’s master.Parading happilyto the back of the bustwo black boyslaughing and roughhousingin front of a mother’sstern countenance.The smug whites up frontread newsprintthat cheers the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134548/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134493/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134492/ ***HadI not beforeknownhow to breathewouldI beherestanding on two feet?Howdo fish knowtofill aquariums, how do cloudslearnabout my aversiontoelectricity, the dogs underneathbedswhen do they learn thunderisa Mastiff’s master,knowledgeunleashed.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134474/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134397/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134346/ ***The powerof the ocean is hiddenin the motion of its swells;ripples no bigger thana thumbnail in a glassexpand and crash as waveswhen freed from the confinesof mankind’sego.When ships sink, man investsin thoughts of a power greaterthan himself. And for some ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134307/ ***Sothis slice of lifeismy go, no-go window,thetiny dot I must hit for reentry,aplace with exact coordinates,withperfect latitude and just-so longitude.I’mfilled with gratitude for the one timeitwas my time to circle the world.Ihad my chances---what.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134304/ ***I chose this path. I deserveall the self-derision I pile onfor the decisions I’ve made.Time is growing shorter;my eighteen-hour days glowerover me while I nap awayanother afternoon’s play time,or learning time, or what shouldhave been time f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134261/ ***I’vebeen befuddled a few times beforeandI know that befuddlementshaveexpiration dates.Notthis one, which befuddles me.Atseventy-five and still alive,itshould be time for me to float slowly,withmy oars out of the water,whileI watch the sun set on a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134260/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134194/ ***When the insurance adjusterdrove up in his Ford Pintoand parked, I started; everythingmy domicile once containedI had to try and lie about.I’d always meantto take photos, but being slowand lazy by natureI never got around to itbefore an electrical outletspark.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134193/ *** Country Joe suggestedthat he didn’t give a damn, that he knew all of us  were going to die in Vietnam. The Ohio National Guard took exception  as Ohio isn’t Hanoi, and soured on the travel arrangements suggested by a country hippy b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134154/ ***You can see the ravenscircling hundreds of feetbelow. From the edgeof Half Dome, it’s a fallof almost a mileto the granite lined floorof Yosemite valley.It’s what death looks likewithout its mask.Trappedbetween raging jet fueland.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134133/ ***I heard Dad say my cousin Jimwent to college to be a beancounter.Knowing that Dad also saidthat kidsshould be seen and not heard,and I, at age 6, qualifiedswallowedmy beans questions.As it turns out, Cannellini beanscooked slowwith garlic and sa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134132/ (Dean Potter, The Dark Wizard) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134061/ ***Thewoman squattedbehindan oak tree about 25 yardsoffthe roadway, pulled up her dress,andtucked it around her waist.AndI thought, that’s an odd waytopray. The day had alreadybeena long one; I’d guesstwenty-sixhours, maybe more.AndI had nothing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134060/ ***Ofwhat use is a twist tiewithouta loaf of bread?Is it to tie around my fingerasa reminder of how hungry I am?Ifso, I don’t need it:justby how unwell my clothes fitIcan tell my nutrition is lacking.Pitchingpaper towelsintothe oceandidn’tsave .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3134009/ *** I care a lot it seems. More than I thought I ever would about some trees on fire, the hillside alive in flames, and we in drought. I wonder: will I explode in smoke, a brier patch set on fire to control the filthy rats? What fiend is there who thinks me so? The.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133952/ after The Dark Wizard, documentary of the life of Dean Potter http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133849/ ***These windmillstell methat outstandingis my personal limit; I’m just another Matterhorn climber with oxygen,a far cry from a solo summitof K2.My whole lifeI heard I had great potential.Great potential! Ha! What anawful lieto tell a chi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133783/ ***Two old toadstogether, travelingin a ‘66 VW bug;from a distance their appearanceis one of two toadssquattingbeneath a toadstool;steering with their tongueswagging, and discussing whosebucket listgets to go firstwhile there’s still time enoughto ho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133780/ ***Oldfrog---thecroaks he owesheswallows.Heworks hardwritingletters he can’tmail,and can’tunderstand.Wearyof tryingheflees to Virginiaandsees trafficcaughtup in traffic,snarledand gnarledoldtree trunksthatold teachers becomepr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133763/ ***Youngand dumb is our plea.Whatelse can you expectwhena truck leaves its keys?Lamplight’ssallowglowing faint and yellow inthe apartment’s sick parking lot.There’sreal joy in ridingeighty on pavementontop of two-hundred-fifty horsesthat aren.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133762/ haiku http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/WBarrett/3133687/