LR Young > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

there was a moment now a decade ago, one summer in Paris, on the only hill in a sacred heart above Montmartre. It was Sunday and the choir w..

a rabbi said the messiah sits just outside, at the gates into the city, waiting not for the pious, or the sinners needing redemption but for m..

Dear M_ sh _ there were nights, most nights milked and honeyed I would run, headlong into sleep knowing I would find you there: waiting, re..

there is a certain blessing to forgetfulness, the way it can, like those paper presses, confess a years worth of flowers into bookcases, notes a..

I felt it before it even loosened the strings that kept the feeling taut, confined by the breath in your lungs, the absence of your exhale punct..

you're like fire and water, you burn me up, up only to soothe my marrow, the serpentine coiling of my own effervescence, the ricochet of light..

before I enter I remove my shoes; maybe it's a holy place, and maybe it's purely for comfort so that when I come to stand at an angle in the..

It's like seeing the sky when both the moon and the sun are visible and you know it's day; you know. you do. you know that this is the reali..

Some nights the river floods, its brackish bank mixing the mud with the first oceanic minerals, the spiral of grit, galaxies at the grindstone b..

om guru deva.