“What is now proved was once only imagined.” ― William Blake A story by Michael Burns It was one of those, afternoons. Sitting at a small café, light diffused, not quite there — surreal. Light waiting to happen. On the edge of waiting to happen…ready.
Fiction, essay, book, short story
I was painting ten paintings the other day. In the music studio and lost an idea among a pile of dead poems sitting on a shelf, it was a good idea! It was something about the sound a bird makes after a terrible storm; for the world is stilled and made over completely in that single solitary second. This is not the only world…by far...
What do you think I am? (Breaking the Fourth Wall )
"Sometimes I rest in the stillness -- far out there, on the way back. I stop and I am held without the weight of my life. Suspended. Listening to the cacophony of noise rise from that little circle. Into my inky blackness, and I look back to their home. It took me a long time to realize I was different from them. That I was not the clothes I was wearing." -- LOOKING BACK FROM SO FAR OUT (2015) ...
You must be logged in to post a comment.