TheGlassIris

A world of my own.

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Conversation Starter For One Forgotten Soul

What's it to you, moving across lips in cafe city while the whole gang's aloft on white smoke, on cigarettes torn from some lonely cashier just checking out for the night, gone night-night, heavily asleep, slipped it seems, in some far-off world where memory is remix and time serves as baseline melody. Oh well, can't change your mind, maybe rearrange or force-cancel your words but nothing, lip service, locked doors on shops, lamp light on replay, and the street misaligned like a scoliotic spine. I can't digress. It's too much work. Talking. Then moving. Afterwards we'll ride the ferry, back home someone's ordered takeout and the rooms are

All

394 deviations

Literature

Conversation Starter For One Forgotten Soul

Featured

394 deviations

Picture of Me Staring at the Lansdowne Herakles

Art

6 deviations

Literature

Conversation Starter For One Forgotten Soul

Poetry

338 deviations

Literature

To Pachuca Sunset by Minus the Bear

I never considered myself a musical expert. Can't read scores, not a whole nor a half note. Forget about classical. I once confused Beethoven's Fifth for a Bach concerto. Oh, but it was lovely all the same. As are you. I don't quite recall why I was so attracted to you, where I found you, where I came to realize that you were not only new and bright and beautiful, but after those first few bars came in, after that dream-like opening, it was apparent to me that you were not merely an unfamiliar and novel sound, but weirdly essential. I don't remember everything. But I remember what I felt. Somewhere, in the years to come, an old man will

Prose

41 deviations

Literature

Ode to Lost Time

Before my parents came to America, before I was born halfway across the shining Pacific, before the emperor was chased out from the Summer Palaces in a haze of glass and rising industrialization, there was a house in the far country surrounded in a sea of lush bamboo. It’s gone now. It’s a story like all stories, once upon a time. There was a beautiful place, a garden, a palace, and we were chased out of it. Like animals fleeing a burning forest, like grains spilling from a torn bag, like petals from a passing season, we left as if in a great hurry. Tricked from our homes, like rats from a flooded house, we made our escape. We w

DD's and DLD's

5 deviations

Literature

House Visit

In response to “Because I could not stop for Death” Here is a girl you know well with short hair and a plain dress. Her house is in the hills. You work constantly in the city. Last night you came to visit and you were surprised at her feet swollen from walking field to field, gathering flowers. Why were you surprised? The room was full of it the flowers, I mean. And the girl, she wanted to let you see just how much life she still had in her. And she walked across the room to peck you on the cheek. And you walked across the floor now, a wide plain, a field of tall flowers, where the body is a bomb bursting into bloom.

Personal Favorites

23 deviations

Conversation Starter For One Forgotten Soul by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

Conversation Starter For One Forgotten Soul

Mrs. Winter Longing by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

Mrs. Winter Longing

America, the word a foreign country in my mouth, my hands wet from washing without soap in the public fountain, an array of trees arrive early with spring already in their hair, ribbons of white plum lace their branches, or else flowers dim with pink and the morning sun, half-bald, half-Rococo, Antoinette hairdos tall as the clouds on a midwinter day, the sun barely visible. America, the garden waiting in the high clouds, I cover the early ground with faint dirges of snow light as salt, flavorless as saliva, hoping not to see the new blades emerge and take on their waking forms. I think it enough to sleep, to lie folded like a cloth over the

Persephone, My Life, Underground by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

Persephone, My Life, Underground

It was no mistake that I ate the fruit. It was sweet. I was young. I knew where my loyalties lied. With me, the earth could finally uphold and swallow that precarious promise, grow and grow. What does not wither will not flourish. I was young strutting about in a spring dress. Mother told me to beware what laid beyond the field. This was the beginning of all my faithlessness. But if I loved anything it was the chance to be free of innocence. In the dark I grew like flowers grow in the dark of the locked tomb, doors that will never be opened save for some thief, saved from the light of a respectable heaven. I was not naive. Ignorant, yes. But

Izanagi by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

Izanagi

What terrified me was not the bare bone under dim candles floating over black water. What I saw was of no importance but for what it meant. That you were gone, and in your place some thing appeared and named its dark form “wife.” I had to run, you see. There was a darkness I could not escape, that was already inescapable the moment I laid eyes on you, who I loved, on you, who shall not be here hence and more. I named my sons and daughter after you, those tears swept fast and unceremonious from my eyes, who now go and warp the world, storm, and sun, and moon. Then at noon, none shall know our troubles, our separation, our splittin

Autumn Falling by TheGlassIris, literature

Coffeehouse, Chicken Salad by TheGlassIris, literature

13 Ways of Looking at a Comma by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

13 Ways of Looking at a Comma

1. Instead of words, a flock of commas flew from her yawning mouth to a wild thunder of applause. 2. A calliope of horses has nothing on a stable of well-groomed commas. 3. If death is a period, dying is ellipses. The comma sees dead people. 4. The comma is a master of disguise. Sometimes a period hides in its shadow, the long tail, the sun's shallow parallel. 5. Nobody has mastered the true comma, coming close, in dreams, they are awarded. So many gold plaques, their titles need commas. 6. The comma is not a silence, but a pause, the way a line break is read it is filled with the silence of commas. 7. Echoing through night, the call

Viewing With Relative Ease by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

Viewing With Relative Ease

The acting's good in a soap opera if you can watch with the sound off and suddenly everything is clear: Tanner is sleeping with Brett. Their hands touch and they shift awkwardly, like shy camels under the sun, as everyone talks, their mouths moving a mile a minute and everyone's gaze happens upon the two secret lovers, their time together tying both tongues, simultaneously urging them into the other yet keeping them apart. In other words, their hands, they to

First Half, Blindness, Jose Saramago by TheGlassIris, literature

Literature

First Half, Blindness, Jose Saramago

The act of reading robes me like God. In the grave a dead man sleeps. After becoming blind, he fondled a girl and being blind too, she dug the heel of her shoe, a sharp stileto, into his leg. Over the course of days, the pain and infection worsened. He crawled toward the asylum gates. They thought it was the wind, a bird washing itself in the bushes. Then, out of the dark, his white face. Of course, panic provoked the trigger. And the man was dead. When I sat by his bed, trembling with his trembling, it was the heat and cold that changed him, the white sea of nothing in his eyes kept him ignorant of the color, the pallor, but not the pain. I

Christina's World by TheGlassIris, literature

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