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Literature Text
The world was spinning too fast, and Jim knew that he was going to be thrown off. A flock of porcupines flew by like the winged monkeys of Oz. Colors swirled until they mixed together and everything turned the color of mud. Trees laughed as they were uprooted, freed from their monotonous standing. Someone whispered in his ear… “You’re in the wild, wild west now, baby.” He awoke, breathing hard, behind the wheel of his ancient Pinto. Horns were honking at him as he pulled back into the proper lane. The narcoleptic episodes were becoming more frequent, and he was worried.
Janice popped a couple of painkillers without water. She was used to it, now, but she couldn’t get used to the pain in her back. It felt like knives twisting into her. The pills always made her sleepy, but there was nothing else she could do to ease the pain. She lay down on the bed and waited for them to kick in. A ‘Scrubs’ re-run was on TV. “Who put the silverware in the pancakes drawer?” It was still funny every time. She wondered if she would go back inside that guy’s head when she slept. She didn’t want to, it must be terribly inconvenient for him. Still, it was fun to whisper crazy things in his ear. Did he remember them when he woke up? “You’re not in Kansas anymore, baby. Welcome to the big time.” Janice watched a lot of TV.
Janice popped a couple of painkillers without water. She was used to it, now, but she couldn’t get used to the pain in her back. It felt like knives twisting into her. The pills always made her sleepy, but there was nothing else she could do to ease the pain. She lay down on the bed and waited for them to kick in. A ‘Scrubs’ re-run was on TV. “Who put the silverware in the pancakes drawer?” It was still funny every time. She wondered if she would go back inside that guy’s head when she slept. She didn’t want to, it must be terribly inconvenient for him. Still, it was fun to whisper crazy things in his ear. Did he remember them when he woke up? “You’re not in Kansas anymore, baby. Welcome to the big time.” Janice watched a lot of TV.
Literature
Whiskey Woman.
I only wish
it weren't so easy
to quit me.
That I was more
of a nicotine girl
lighting lungs
with darkness,
sending nerves
into nervous frenzies
when people finally
got their fix.
Or maybe even a whiskey woman
in a private booth,
the crutch of a broken man
with nothing left
but the promise
of inebriated peace,
of paradise found
at the bottom
of bottles.
But substances
have substance,
and then there's me.
Literature
Who gives this woman?
No one can,
for she was free and wild
before she left my womb,
Said her mama.
No one can,
for she was free and wild
before she let go my hand,
Said her daddy.
No one can
bind the wind that is her breath
trap the water that is her blood
cage the earth that is her bones
capture the fire that is her heart
Said her granny.
No one may give wha
Literature
Summer Woman
Woman, you are my burnt sienna sculpture on Sun-days.
You are hiding my strength in rufous hair
and I feel you: russet-flushed to the touch,
jagged collarbone curving into neck,
easing into shoulders, into breasts;
woman, you are the warmest stone –
you are summery stone
to my water-drenched hands.
Woman in deepest reverie, you are hiding
my strength in pacific oceans of titian;
in running veins. My grasp
slips from skin slopes of sun and stone,
slips from you.
Woman of ragged flint and oil,
in sleep, your wind-kissed stone-neck drifts,
surges into a soft arch in air –
and does not meet ground;
and does not bow.
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Awesome! I'd love to read a 400 page book based on this! ^^