Entries By nytrist
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 64 Entries
Atmosphere, stratosphere, troposphere. Brainstorm a collection of words formed from disparate letters that jostle themselves into position, like gases forming banded stripes through the horizon. And all I can think of is the darker space beyond the stratosphere, where the light design is star sourced and minimalist, and wish I could float there, instead of here.Posted By nytrist On 05.24.2013 @ 11:35 pm
Clout was the big shaggy dog that walloped along the beach just around the time the tips of the sunlight would crawl over the treetop to light the sand. Distastefully eager to be everyone’s friend and distastefully sandy and wet from chasing the stupid stick into the waves.
Yet when he was gone, we would have given more than we had to have him back.
I heard someone once say it’s a precious feeling to love anything with that much clout.Posted By nytrist On 05.23.2013 @ 4:22 pm
She was cast as a shadow in life’s play, but she played the role with all the earnestness and dedication of a lead.
She honoured the prominent characters who shone in the limelight, stretching and elongating their outlines so she could scrape and tickle her tummy across gravel, grass and brick.
Underneath bridges, she drew herself into puddles of black ink that silver coins and tattered t-shirts could lounge in, and she would widen or shrink her embrace as she coated walls, fences and faces more lovingly than an artist, brushstroke by brushstroke, hour by hour.
She loved the sun, though she hid from it and she feared the night, though it gave her the world.Posted By nytrist On 05.21.2013 @ 6:24 pm
the insult catapulted into a somersault that flew the across the room and landed square between your eyes, knocking you out for a perfect 10. And while you lay unconscious, the little birdies that circled your head argued heatedly over the meaningless of flying round and round in circles.Posted By nytrist On 05.21.2013 @ 6:38 am
Lullaby, a soothing word for what we think carries babies to the warmth and goodness of sleep.
But nobody ever talks about what the babies know and why it is they cry when you dim the lights, place them in their crib and enchant them with deceitful songs that lead them, hand in hand into a darkness where abandonment, weakness and the unknown wait to devour them.Posted By nytrist On 05.19.2013 @ 6:30 pm
is a city that lives inside encyclopedias, novels, films and friends tales. I’ve heard that it truly exists and was once a sleep swamp. But if you asked me today, I’d say it was just a made up name, a word that came about because a man managed a hat with a tan.Posted By nytrist On 05.17.2013 @ 5:34 am
There’s a pause as I dip my hand into the toybox and dig for the word taboo.
A figure balanced high, walks a daily tightrope. One foot after another. Concentrate and don’t look down. On one side lies the permissible, on the other side the taboo stretches.
From this height, both sides empty away into black. One comforting, one confronting.
I flick the rope. The figure wobbles.
Silly little thing, doesn’t know the blackness beneath is all the same.Posted By nytrist On 05.14.2013 @ 9:47 pm
Moon, mool, loom. no can’t stop because if something looms over you, then it will be like a fingernail growing back crooked. And looming, what does that actually look like anyway? Like a shadow that drenches you because the sun is hidden, soapy and ink like, or like a dodge man in a coat, pointy 40′s hat and crooked finger directed at you, saying, it’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault.Posted By nytrist On 05.11.2013 @ 7:07 am
A neo natal baby heard harry potter, and wanted to live until she found out the ending, a 46 year old with more than half the book written is bored with his story and wants to switch novels and all the while narratives and characters in life murky up the linear novel like a disruptive technology..and most of the time, the stories just don’t make sense.Posted By nytrist On 05.06.2013 @ 8:40 pm
A slight nervousness before the light that seeps through reaches the coal beneath. I’m warm and comfortable, and I know it will last if only I stay a little longer. But the light undulates and the music that it leaves in its vibrating wake, lengthens and shrivels, ignites and burns as it touches cold air..Posted By nytrist On 05.06.2013 @ 4:35 am
we rate the wrong things and wonder why we’re not able to tell anything about ourselves anymore. I rate that, I don’t rate that. Would you publish this rating if it was my last?
A haphazard attempt, and a heavy miasma dulls any output that tries to seep into my keyboard.Posted By nytrist On 05.04.2013 @ 6:00 am
Timelines and projects and deadlines and start and straight and end and finish. But really the most interesting timelines are the ones with squiggles that cross over, and curves that arc widely like an ocean horizon. So time, and the graffiti line it draws behind it devastates the cleanness, and leaves a tag that they’ll pursue and prosecute.Posted By nytrist On 05.02.2013 @ 9:36 pm
enemies of ourselves. Out to sabotage, ridicule and all the other nasty stuff, but in some ways that’s just because we’re attached to outcomes and how other people see us. Imagine if I didn’t, and changed the word, and added letters to make it nemesis, or perhaps meenies, or perhaps something else…Posted By nytrist On 04.29.2013 @ 11:40 pm
Its the way you dip your little toe into this social sea and go about your business oblivious of me. Its the blue and green aura cloak around you as say hello, goodbye and everything in between. But mostly its the white light that burns too bright, too loud that draws and keeps others away.Posted By nytrist On 02.15.2011 @ 11:55 pm
laughed at aloud at the appropriateness right now of this word. Then cried as the words to express it refused to be coaxed; dragging their feet, turning their heads and scratching at their ropes, clinging safely to the same nouns that bound them at the bottom of the sentence chain.Posted By nytrist On 01.10.2011 @ 11:42 am
missed 30 seconds waiting for an idea, image, an example, a colour, a smell, a touch or even a taste and nothing came that could be support this prickle of an thought. Sometimes you search for support in the wrong places, the wrong spaces and the wrong people, sometimes the best thing is no support at all. The most liberating, the most frightening and the most careless need support from no one and from nothing.Posted By nytrist On 01.09.2011 @ 12:11 pm