Spoke of hands, she. Touched when quiet, as the loved one. Quieted before resisting the temptation to be breath again. Again. And as she felt the thin pulse, everything came home. This room in which. Small moments would be here. Because enough, the still construction. Walls and siding. As if not spring. The windows, double-paned. Talk left where it is. The story offered to the ears of others who are friends. Equals reflection. And the look from elsewhere at enclosure. To explain where not required. Friends who have been friends always. Many proofs, in many ways, to show your work. As evidence of having lived. This name attached. To money situation. The endowment poured down into a departure. People just continue. Both affected by and not. Again a residue of what is left when, if. A solo voice. And then another. Then.
Surrender, ad hoc, patterning, a test, nothing at all
Sheila E. Murphy
First appeared at experiential-experimental-literature (click on to go there)
texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' this would apply to the works included here. previously published writing from white sky books will also be included. send texts to peter ganick at firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration. both ex-ex-lit and white sky books are reading manuscripts.