Michael lay on his back and counted his breaths, measuring their depth of inhalation and release. He tried to hold his breath for as long as he could, wondering when his allocated portion would expire. He remembered being a young boy, turning blue in defiance while holding out for a demanded packet of chips, while his mother calmly waited for necessity to take over. When he had leaned in to kiss Stephanie back in high school, his breath caught as her lips pressed against his. Palms pressed down against the grass he felt its warmth and moisture. He mused on the paradox wherein earth brought forth life, but it required the breath of life to make it live.
Do you really want an answer to the question, ”Who are you?”
Here you will find my creative detritus: articles on living a creative life and writing explorations.
And other ideas I have snaffled from the papers stuck on the fridge door.
I tweet as @revhappiness
When I am not here, I can be found putting the final touches on a collaborative epistolary novel, "Post Marked: Piper's Reach," written with Jodi Cleghorn (@JodiCleghorn)
And I write poetry on Post It Notes over here: http://postitnotesandpoetry.tumblr.com/
Come and browse through the library; there is no need to be silent.
- Follow A Fullness in Brevity – Adam Byatt on WordPress.com
Enough Posts to Make A Fence
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- RT @rusvw13: Paralyzing Times for Creatives baltimorewriter.wordpress.com/2017/11/20/par… https://t.co/Fp5F5IFlTB 1 day ago
- Miss #2: You need to wash your hands because they are too close to your bum. #wisdomoftheages 2 days ago
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