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Leaving New York City

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on August 4, 2009 at 5:20 AM Comments comments (1)

Leaving New York City

 

Here in New York, it's raining again,

the Midafternoon has left pliable

pockets of green leaves and slick

rocks that smoke above the chasms

of heat and water.

 

I zigzag around them, dancing downward,

through a steep trail in Central Park.

Dizzily, never looking back, the landscape

holds my heart in its hands. I come here

to think.

 

So many nature trails erased by sand,

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.5 FL. Oz. For Tilly:)

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on August 4, 2009 at 5:16 AM Comments comments (1)

.5 FL. Oz. For Tilly:)

 

He likes it when I spray my favorite perfume

on his pillow, Passion by Liz Taylor, leaves

butterflies in his stomach, he says, reminds

him of me when I'm gone.

 

Yesterday, he leaned into me, and for the first

time I felt a bough of silver electricity all around

us. The wind was blowing northwest and I

smelled the surge of last year's storms.

 

There was an external cold from the...

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The Devil's Dance

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on August 4, 2009 at 5:13 AM Comments comments (1)

The Devil’s Dance

 

I like the way ice melts on his bare skin,

running down his inner thighs, onto his

hairy legs. I like the loveable echo of his

moans as my tongue tastes left over liquid,

while his toes curl up in airless ransom.

 

There are no hellos or goodbyes, just the

pressing of moist lips exploring the blue

world of throbbing nerves and arteries,

as vibration increases need, anxious, yet

undire...

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Ode To The Goddess Enelne

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on June 8, 2009 at 6:46 AM Comments comments (3)

Ode To The Goddess Enelne

 

 

She sees herself in the skeleton of moonlight,

a sentient being in the whiteness of madness

where disturbing platitudes of murmuring curses

echo through the fascination of a crystal ball. She,

irksome black witch, bleeds green gems of woven

jade as an opaque pavilion of stars wades into

tangled clouds. In the darkness, She grows larger!

In the darkness, She grows louder! Holistic eyelid...

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Sand Paintings: The Eagle, The Raven

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 29, 2009 at 1:39 AM Comments comments (3)

Sand Paintings: The Eagle, The Raven

 

 

Extraordinary sensations

inspire striking

impressions

of spirited strokes

canvassing

a menagerie of creatures.

Wild Mustangs banquet

luxuriously

as others lay asleep

half buried

in a deep bed of foliage.

The sun shines through tall

trees

while the mighty eagle

soars,

the sound of wind

sweeping

beneath the g...

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The Memory Castle

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 29, 2009 at 1:34 AM Comments comments (2)

The Memory Castle

 

 

My body is a memory castle

where dormant handprints mark

an eclipse of rising waves

that fondle pink breasts with

the detail you crave.

Our white breath in the dark

rustling through the rough-dangle of

our arms embrace hushed by the slow

disintegration of sunlight couched over

twilight, incites tranquility.

I am the smallest particle of matter

sea shelled in the rhyt...

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Love Now And Forever (the prequil to Dragons Guard the Moon) Prose

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 29, 2009 at 12:25 AM Comments comments (1)

Love Now And Forever (the prequil to Dragons Guard the Moon) Prose

 

 

The Ocean holds the wholeness of time against the pale sky where birds fly at dawn, caught by their instincts to smell the sweet abundance of the sea. Life and death seem to start and end there with an infinite journey of the soul, voyaging, turning, and churning. My mind drifts to the cliffs of Scotland where the remains of color slide into the grayness of a dream. I see in black and white now ...

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She doesn't know she's dead. Tourniquet

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 27, 2009 at 7:11 PM Comments comments (5)

She doesn't know she's dead.

 

Tourniquet

 

I had tied a cord securely

to one of the higher stronger

light fixtures,

making a running noose

and slipping it around my neck

kicking the chair from under my wake

until I fell forward

dying

of slow strangulation.

It was like creeping through

a tunnel where a stream

must have been, but all the water

had dried up so that it was quite

dark...

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Choices

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 27, 2009 at 6:24 PM Comments comments (3)

Choices

 

 

"I need a bigger bathtub." I can be so meticulous sitting on the edge of the marble tub, my mind screaming with impatience, my hands grabbing the faucets opening them so that the sound of running water masks all my confusion.

Feeling my stomach roll, I take the glass of water from a pitcher left on the bathroom floor. "Tranquilizers, not pain killers." A pretty little pillbox offers immediate comforting.

Straightening up, I take a step ins...

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Ice Sculpture (Oral sex anyone?)

Posted by Theresa C. Newbill on May 25, 2009 at 3:59 AM Comments comments (3)

Ice Sculpture

 

Oral Sex Anyone?

 

Chisel me in continuity where peculiar circumstances

ornate

the thirst for novelty.

Guide me imperiously, to direct opposition

venturing me free of theories

and opinion.

Lick me with futile controversy

give offense by opposing

the taste of others.

Color wheel me with quiet

incarnation ,

as my adversaries brand me

dull, and vapid.

Smo...

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