Marie Anzalone > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

written for a public presentation for Valentine's Day in my city

One of us is as unpredictable as a river; the other, as intransigent as hardened lava. But I heard what nightingales wrote to the..

I. My friend says, I am not ready to die; or maybe I am afraidthat dying might actuallyfeel like forgettingwhat laughter tasted like. ..

Poetry was always what happened when we had no words left. It was the language we spoke between cultures to bring down tyrants, honor ou..

Tonight, clouds are flown across the sky on kite strings spun of tenuous hopes; wound on the spools of the anxiety we all felt last year...

Just that suddenly, one day there is color again in your sunrise. It has taken years sorting through photos in black and white, ant..

I. It is in these earliest hours, gazing out from inside those quiet spaces where the heart of a woman dreams alive everything it ha..

Remind me. How it was. With dirt creased into my hands but the skin of my body washed, scented of lilies, you- pressing my back to the ..

I left my body last night, to step into that dream, with you. Hot springs, auroras. The arctic wind that played the stones like..

First, you said, I don’t like the way they dress, and I really don’t like, the way they pray. You got together with peo..