http://slow.writerscafe.org/VolLindsey The original writings of author Vol en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776005130 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I'm sorry I've not been here for a few weeks... I'm taking a break... I Blame fickle Erato for walking off and leaving me alone in this fog... I AM headed outside more these days and doing some long neglected work around the yard... Even mowed that overgrown acre that's been worrying me for the last.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3131705/ 04/04/2026DoAliens walk among us? In all my decades watching people, I have onlyencountered one person who seemed fundamentally different fromeveryone else. I was taking a couple of summer classes at UT when mymeds needed a refill, so I went to the handy Walgreens across thestree.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3131129/ I’ve been thinking, I do that a lot… you should try it some time. I am way too lazy to die. I mean, just getting ready is more work than I care todo. Draw up a will?Like pay some lawyer six hundred bucks, or more and then I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3130637/ e e sonnetthereis a documentaryyou can find on e e cummings, andit has his voice recordedso justlike yeats his slowenunciation is one long whinein some attempt at artisticgravitas but to my cynical ear it seemslike slowunpunctuated.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3128651/ GETTING THEREWhatis it about the power of dogstoown so much of us? Here, Blondie!Here,Blondie! She was my best friendbeforeI even knew what that meant.Thatgolden bag of barks followed meeverywhere, like to the combopoliceand firehouse across the fieldbehindo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3128225/ “The longer I live the more beautiful life becomes. If you foolishly ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverished. But if you invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.” Frank Lloyd WrightAlfred Eisenstaedt - Frank Lloyd .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3127486/ I have always resented formalrules in literarycircles, the laws of sonnetry, haiku, orvillanelle; tripwires set across the path andflow of meaning. Clever, they are, those Phariseesand Sadducees with long nosesandsoulless pince nez arrogance, full of fancynames for complica.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3127369/ Anothercleansheet of papertillmy pen finds a place to poise, readyto mark time in a cloud of ADHDthoughtsthat nevercare whattimeitis.Thinkof lighteningin the alleyswherethe dumpsters live, ortheforest where thecracking leaves falllike a s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3127022/ Shedanced down a lineofnear dead neurons, pirouettedforgotten axonsandtouchedmy skin likeanew struck match, branded my eyes with new imagesofold things long forgotten.Breathingagain, they emergefrombehind stone walls anddeadwood to stand naked,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3126926/ Ilay there a long time this morningtryingto practice being alive again.Therewas this quiet buzz in my belly,somethingto do with the curves of youpressedinto my back and recedingwithevery breath in the cold air. Theedges of the window hint at dawnandI float lik.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3126762/ Sometimes I go crazy and whenI get there I never know which was better,the trip or the destination. The dealer knowsI need a Queen of Hearts, but he’sinsane and the deck is stacked on the shoulders ofthe road fromBourbon Street all the wayback to the start. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3126693/ 02/08/2026Ihave been down this rabbit hole for a while now. I always wonderedwhat it would be like to anticipate my own impending loss ofconsciousness, more commonly called, "Death." I amimpatient and need to find out now, not wait for my last-minutelife to “flash before my eyes.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3126208/ Blue skies, turquoise water,and a melted watch in thetime of rockets and shuttleswhen Florida was homeand the beach was a national seashore where a few of us fished and surfedand a few others went nudistfive miles down the way.Those were the times.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3125858/ If the universe is made ofonlyit’s physical bits and heldtogetherby dark matter in an infinitestring of pictures, then I thinksomething has gone wrong. Whatif God made the universe then breathed itconscious withGalactic neurons, black holeaxons and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3124899/ "The cultural era of Europe, and that includes America, is finished. The next era belongs to the technician; the day of the mind machine is dawning. God pity us!"~ Henry MillerQuantum AI will not know the right places to kiss before making love. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3124481/ Ithought I was in charge ofthewords I play with, butIwas wrong. Turns out,Iam the toy, and the words areusingme.Likewhen we were cavemenandfirst met lightening… FLASH!YELP!And now, ithasa name...BLITZ!BARQ! KIDLAT!Thenthe rains fell, so we found .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3124386/ The author said,in her people’s wisdom,that "no native language has a cognate for “human” as separate from other beings.”The NPR interviewer sighed andbecame excited by the unity of all things and the serenityimplied in this strange.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3124210/ We,the walking dead of this Twenty-first century Bedlam we'veeither created (I'm a boomer)or inherited, everyone else, havelost our souls. We no longer demand beauty likeour ancestors did, we don't have a version of ArtDeco, or Art .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3123654/ “You should always be trying to write a poem you are unable to write, a poem you lack the technique, the language, the courage to achieve. Otherwise you're merely imitating yourself, going nowhere, because that's always easiest.”― John Berryman http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3123275/ IIjust got home from the first winter ride I’ve done in years, andwhat a revelation! Only about fifty miles, ten down Rt 66 andI-40 to pay my gas bill, then up and around toward Pampa. Iwas reminded of Ole Bartender Dan in Maggie Valley all those yearsago, said his wife w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3122821/ Thishump day morning, I read in the newsthatthe Campi Flegrei volcano near Naples, Italy has anupset stomach and may throw up all overeverything.What is most shocking, though, Is, it’s alreadyWednesday, Woden’s day, Odin’s day.Again.Itis al.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3122606/ Fromthe moment my head crowneduntilright now, so much happened,there isno way keep up with it all.Iremember “We like Ike,” and JFK talkingdeadly domino effectsthat turned intosixty-thousand ofmy brot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3122213/ Ifmy reality came in buckets of all there is, itwouldappear as planets around different suns, eachwith a life of its own; each with a life ofmyown. I’ve lived so many and left them strewn likebreadcrumbs as former versions of me. I’d visitthem more often if I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3121459/ Herashes came in the mailtoday. A sturdybox of dense, blackcardboard. I opened it on thekitchenisland, and lifted the plasticbag with a pound or so of gray sand init. I stared at the contents a long time, wondered about her brilliant mind andthose bill.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3120841/ Thatcast iron muffin pan was onthe top shelf and hard to reach, itsawkwardbalance tipped toward oneside and it was all I could do to justhang on. Eight pounds ofcast iron on my foot and you could call me Crip.An hour later and the cinnamon apple muffinswere.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3120439/ Who’s the first to go? Youknowit’sgotta happen because nothingislike it’s supposed to be. But then,hasanything ever worked like it should?She remembers the firsttimeshe stepped outside and howitfelt when her pink toes pressedintothe crushed gravel... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3120152/ We don’t “think”our emotions, and we don’t “feel” our thoughts.I can say happy all day longand nothing changes except whenthe sound of the word getsdivorced from its definition and is just a silly ha-pee. I canmake change in my head for .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3119581/ Me. Now what? I’ve almosthadenough. At least I think Ihave. There is a new avenue they’veadded to the map… Everythingelse has been there a longtime:Religion, philosophy,government,the dirt under ourfingernails, countries, empires and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3119488/ I founda hemlock lying downbecausethat’s the way the wind blewalong time ago. It settled therealongthe edge of a stone bluff. Havinggrown that way for all theseyears, it looks like a ship, itstip curving up, and three limbs, evenlyspaced along the top of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3119391/ Thedarkened sun floatsabove ominous clouds,somy morning coffee hasa harder job hereinthe den where the lights are off.I’m thinking…thereis a lot of land out there where allI want is a small cottage. Wouldit be a crime to homestead a li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3114613/ The author said,in her people’s “wisdom,”that no nativelanguage has a cognate for “human” as separate from other beings.”The NPR interviewer sighed andbecame excited by the unity of all things and the serenityimplied i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3101707/ I find it hard to come togrips with how muchthereis I need to come to grips with… Me, thiswalkingbag of chemicals and water animated bythebreath of God. Tell me, how are we supposedtodeal with that? Sounds big, too big to think aboutanythingelse, but we do, and thus we.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/3001020/ We moved to St. Paul, Virginia when I was just three. Seems they needed a new preacher for a little Pentecostal church and my dad knew how to roll holy with the best of them. St. Paul was small.The church and parsonage were on one slope of Broad Street and most of the businesses were a block away, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2987449/                                   1The wall of our cave isartificial and convoluted, just the way welike it. The shadows crawl across to tellus where to go o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2974190/ There is something tantalizingabout decorated, liminalspaces, a long hotel hallway, no doorsajar, no disembodied voices, potted plants frozen in place, aquiet camera to watch nothinghappen. Even a careful human intrusion is a bustle of movement, soft.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2964587/ Maybe it is the old age factorthat makes insignificant memories flash right up, uninvited... I'msitting here minding my own business and there it is, Kimberly and Iin Atlanta for "market" when she owned Celebrations Bridal.Our favorite restaurant was "Sweet Tomatoes" with thebiggest sala.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2964328/ I’ve read a lot of sciencefiction doing my bestto escape, get out of here,leave it all behind,so, if the aliens landed in myback yard and offeredme a ride, I wouldn’t missmy hat and cane, all I’d want to know is if Ihad to come back.Those worlds out ther.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2964177/ By thegoldfish pond at the end ofthe walk, a spider labors intricatelyinthe overhanging sage and rosemarytobuild a snare for thirsty prey,adeadly spiral from the center out. Outhere on the side of the hillIcall my yard, the sun burns throughmyshirt and the humidit.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2963963/ You know that old bit, “mybody has nosoul, my soul has a body?” You are what happens when yourspirit, your soul, id, and ego are runthrough a blender to make the complex flavor ofyou… body notrequired. The implications arejust vital,that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2963689/ My roots are long and deep, they curl through dirt, between rock and water, seeking more in the underground darknessof an earlier time when the past was now, and across a wide sea where my blood began, a place where blond Gaels met black headed Rome.My feet .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2963066/ When was the last time you hurt your jaw with a yawn?I’m tired, you are tired.Inside this kaleidoscope no one is sleepy, and the wheel never stops itssecond hand sweep.We the addicted, demandmore colors, flashier lights,preachier rap, and music so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2962998/ Snowlashesmy eyes; the gnarled grasp ofonedegree Fahrenheit squeezesmy fingersWhileI run out to feed the birds.Cardinals,Towhees, Chickadees, and NuthatchLockedoutside the window I’m locked behind,Scratchingmy belly,Yawning.Itake a sip of coffeeandwatc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2962745/ WallaceStevenswas a despicable man,read up on him foryourself.So it pains me to admit"The Bell Jar"wasmy five o'clock roosterwhen the sun came up oneverythingI needed to know.Old Mrs. Hull said it was aboutchaos andhow only by the touchof man could it mean anything,ho.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2962657/ Youwoke me up at 2 AMsoI moaned and rolled over reachingout to the wispy edgesofsome fading dream…Iknow it’s OKbecausethe pendulum ofyour breasts as you rise andfall in the sky above mysquinting eyes makesmy toes curl .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2962550/ In media res leaves everythingout except the sharp stuff...Chrome and yellow Formica table with matching chairs, counter scattered withbreakfast detritus,roil of bacon and biscuits,radio talks background news,the door hung so it swingsshut by itself propped openwitht.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2961193/ The human heart is biggerthan you know, so big it cancontain our infinite, mobiusuniverse. Even better, it knows a meadow is theplace to findour soaring soul in a redtailed hawk, snuffling mice, and infant flowers no one will ever see, tiny sp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2961159/ I'vegot a damn good memory, andan even better imagination. Makesit worse, because when I close my eyes and remember,Idon't want to open them again... Ican still hear the sounds of our favoriterestaurant, blushat all thetimes you t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2959693/ In theIdes of this blue moon August, Rhiannonwaxes for the second time around,so I stand on our dark torwherewe, enchanted, traveleddowntimeand into memory.Themurmur of mystic voices nolonger drifts up from the forest wherewe were pinned to the ground .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2959168/ DON'T MIND MEI’ve seen plenty of brains,real ones lifted out and slipped intosteel autopsy pans, this one fresh from aguy cold as the stainless gurney where helay. I wonder at the convolutions and thejellied, gray mass sliced in half-inch sla.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2959022/ Those quantum people have everythingin an uproar. I recently read they say the past is as indeterminate as the future. And where does that leave us, I want to know?Floating free, I imagine, in the vastness of our own imaginations.Wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/VolLindsey/2958678/