Tag Archives: Prose Flows

Origins

I could live inside the world of film. A matinee during the week, when the whole world is at work, one of my most favorite things. Moving images. Images so crucial to how my writing process works. Boots and a bag. Simple, basic image right? Not so much, the picture stays with me for weeks, turning over possibilities, …

Streaming Ties That Bind: 'She never laughed anymore. Nothing was fun; life was not a game.'

She disappeared inside the land of make-believe, filled with Crayola crayons so bright she wore tinted sunglasses I always thought true love was equivalent to good poetry dying today, today, today I‘ve learned how to sleep alone with my dreams A young girl fell in love with art, without perhaps ever knowing his  name     …