WRITERS’ CORNER
THEME FRIDAY
awake
On the way home we pass a smear that may’ve been of raccoon origin on the side of the road. Shiny with tubes and bits of bone shredded into shards. That’s what being dragged is. Becoming shards and ragged bits of a whole.
And its smell which is sweet and thick and death comes into my nostrils. And unsuddenly what were just stunning, steaming horses stampeding across a field of blue become clouds. And their tears- rain. The heavenly scent of freshly wetted grass, the spirits of felled trees, is now- simply- odor. Nothing so heaven, sleepy and dreaming.
Hands are not birds! What of flutter? What of it? Eyes are not mirrors. There are no beloveds or sorrow or many ways. It is all others and self and here and there others versus self. And of self? What and who is it? Who and what can answer this? i don’t know who i am Tears are vain things, water escaping from seeing. There is only north north north by several routes but always. North.
Stop dreaming. Money is rag paper. Awake! o you sleepers! Power is something we do not possess, a nothing we create out of dust and dole out to others. Bleeding is leaking. Time is false. And that racoon- struck- is not a racoon at all. Just life. Just life in another way but still north…
But loving arms! That embrace can be implements of constraint or a gate to freedom. Love is awake and dream. Love, sinuous and limber and invisible and visible, flavorful, love that is love can shift from dream to wakefulness.
Love is awake!
end
Witness Annie’s awake here and The Urban Panther is awake as well.
(copyright 2008 ) c A Hughes
10.24.08
Awesome! I try to right stream on consciousness, but it just makes me giggle. *smile*
Thanks.
i think i do it because i am a babbler at heart- verbose, an impulsive talker.
i don’t plan to do it in writing because then it’s not really a stream as much as a trickles.
It just happens sometimes and there’s no other literary word or phrase i know of that covers it.
~c
if we could remember
that we are
each other and
the tree and
the racoon
and that we are all
on the same journey north,
the walk would be a little better for everyone.
i agree wholeheartedly, spiritedly and northernly.
Agreed.
~c
plus, it might not smell so bad.
Hahaa!
Yes !
Love is awake c. I love this
Love
Di
Thank you, Di.
Love is definitely waking.
It is also dreaming. It’s many things, doing many things.
It just is.
~c
Oh Chica,
I am always so amazed with what your incredible mind and soul comes up with. Love is awake. Eyes fully open, with heart and soul. Gorgeous.
Love
Annie
Aw, thank you Annie.
Your comment makes me feel shy…
in a good way.
~c
You always come through on Fridays. I was reading your book list on Goodreads. I’ve read many on your list. It’s a great list. I saw some I want to read too.
A good reader is a good writer. I liked this piece. You get so much across with so few words.
that took my breath.
nice, love is awake… in its expression
Coast to coast, the raccoon is king of roadkill.
Just a little FYI I picked up along the way. 
Breathless. First time to comment in your blog though I’ve read it for some time now.
This reminds me of Tillie Olsen who I’m reading at the moment. The writing has this ephemeral presence with its burts of brief sentence structuring.