Entries By e gordon
Displaying 1 To 6 Of 6 Entries
oak
the smell is exhilarating. I run as fast as my legs can carry me through the broken branches and pine needles that litter the ground. I can here wood breaking behind me, and the thrill of someone else’s breath working twice as hard as I am. I cover my fast as i plow through the brush. The smoke is filing the empty sky, but with a softness that I’ve never felt.
Posted By e gordon On 09.13.2009 @ 7:07 pm
cigarette
the smell was intense. no more than that, it seeped into my pores, it clung to my clothes and soaked my hair. he sat there, in that feathered beige armchair, just staring out at the door at me, just baiting me into the broken screen door. I threw the cig on the ground, pushed it into the cracks of the sidewalk and turned my back to the house.
Posted By e gordon On 09.01.2009 @ 5:08 pm
teacher
the moment placed a weight in my heart. Had she heard me? I wasn’t sure. I was clear. I pronounced all my words correctly. I even increased the volume of my voice just to make sure it was audible. But then again I’m in the back. maybe she couldn’t see me- let alone really hear me. Maybe next time.
Posted By e gordon On 08.29.2009 @ 6:43 am
flavor
Fruity warmth of the beach, in the evening, right before the sun goes down, when the heat is just ceasing and the food that has been in a cooler all day tastes just right- that gatorade I’ve been saving for when I was really thirsty doesn’t last a moment but the blue sensation dances on my tongue for moments after it’s gone.
Posted By e gordon On 01.08.2010 @ 5:55 am
mute
She walked into the padded cell and plopped onto the floor. It made a sound like a marshmellow being deflated. She was in a gray outfit, her hands covered like a newborns, with cloth so she couldn’t cut herself. Her mouth was open in a full on scream, with no sounds escaping.
Posted By e gordon On 01.27.2010 @ 6:51 am
flour
my mom has it spread out on the kitchen counter. the counter was a mustard color last night, with dirt in the spider vein cracks. Now it’s a soft powdery place for her to roll the dough, beating it like she’d beat the ground out back, trying to plant new life. She molds and moves.
Posted By e gordon On 10.10.2009 @ 6:47 am
