Daleth Grey > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The Silver Leaf was a lodge that may or May not still exist, the place nearly all of my life’s imagery was Born, the glass-like rivers ..

There’s something in the way she moves, The Beatles said it best, I know. She tiptoes, slides, and glides like air Across the hillside..

Imagine Juliet, waking up the morning After that first- last?- night spent with Romeo. She feels sleep dust in the corners of her eyes, Maybe..

I walk into the profusion of grave-markers, Like a horizontal apartment complex. The buzz of crickets is close to my skin, The give of damp g..

When we talk about sex, We talk about bases, about Boning, getting busy, Tapping that, or scoring. But I’m not here to play sports,..

a nonfiction essay written for a workshop. messy, but from the heart.

Who has dyed my deep blue sea And stolen it, Stolen it from me? Cut from the north, My body stings. Atlantic, I long for thee. Isaw a woman ..

Horizontal Not knowing anything at all Eighteen fish in a circle Protractor sky Introverted Always afraid I’m a battery Dripping magen..

My desperate revenant, Hand me your sword. Sit down with me And drink of the thick, red wine, Syrup of unsuspecting sanity. Calm your dark nerv..

"I think the life-cycle is all backwards" -andy rooney