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Post By: Joanna Briggs
You wear this place like a cross around your neck— the sting of incense, the echo of bells, the smooth touch of wood against your lips— you wear it always. It stays with you like the memory of a kiss, rising in your mind as you butter toast or pause to tie your shoe. It […]
Paper Crush If only I could fold you up like a square of origami paper, lining up the corners of the times we spoke, sealing each edge with a sharp fingernail of regret. Maybe then this flat hurt would gain corner and shadow, some greater meaning with the depth of shape. Or, if not, you […]
Spoil your children. Spoil them with good books.
When I draw portraits and illustrations, I often use pen and ink. Without an eraser, I have to learn from my mistakes and creatively work around them to achieve a result that I like. Often a misplaced line has led to a more intricate background or a stronger contrast between light and shadow. Drawing is […]
Dansul Mortii Your best memories haunt you, and the time you danced to Holst’s Planets in a long blue dress hangs in the air like a ghost as “Jupiter” plays on the radio. You were one of them, then, the sylphs, the Willis, fairy girls with bony chests and hollow cheekbones, floating phantomlike, beautiful as […]
Sound and Silence Hiking with my father I cannot decide which is more lovely, the roar of the falls or the quiet of the deep pools where small grey fish flit noiseless over rippled sand. I think on this, listening to the air sliding in and out of my lungs while hickory saplings hold their […]