At seven o’clock we tempted our fatigue and drove some more after a day in both cars. The drive was short and awed very little but definitely calmed and probably inspired at least one of us. “Us” is in this case a both, a daisy chain with one proud link. Dark and the sweet smell of oranges and dust. We arrived at the wrong gate.
A heat wave in Ojai is a depression of hope that one has found paradise. The town’s beauty is ground into the soil so that it is breathed in rather than noticed. Attending to one’s guilt in this air heals one’s past and erases the oppression of the future so there is only now and this.
Some lessons are scattered in the gait of a tortoise roaming around the grounds. Some promises are stuffed against the face of Topa Topa. A numb spark that one judges to be real rather than believes to be true; I’m an unlikely recipient of natural grace.
Apparently a failure in the self-promotion department, I’ve neglected to make a proper post announcing the availability of my new poetry chapbook, Recipes and How-To’s! Released in November 2017 through Red Flag Poetry, this collection of experimental poetry and abstract artwork may be purchased directly through the publisher: https://www.redflagpoetry.com/store/p17/Recipes_and_How-To’s_-_Virginia_Petrucci.html
I am pleased to announce that I have a new flash fiction piece published online in Flash Fiction Magazine. You can have a read here, and don’t forget to let me know what you think!
Some sort of solitary freezing. Some perfect in the dark, some fresh anger from the man.
There is a tomorrow I know. Today is an absent friend. It is tremors of pleasure that he seeks. I am through with motion as catalyst. I am inclined to still, supportive only of the rocks who soothe by reaching, reaching for sky and ice without edging on vibrate.
I am for the purpose of still. There is a greatness about the multiples. I am for no purpose but still.
The man often feels like alien. Part shadow, part child, I cannot help but feel that the prize at the end of this rope dangles on the end that I hold. Taught without tugging, an absence presents itself in the middle.
The night begged its own seat in the calendar of seasons. A warmth but a triumph over fire and a confusion over coast.
A frenzy, like lightning it was, like an invitational mystery with a jocular humor. For girls, such skies. Much like the girls I used to be.
The scenes I used to take to and the love drug storms I used to make fall short of this graceful math. This lightning with no wind, this rain with no reason. I am not for such delights. I am not for seeing what is already there.
He times a surprise and I shorten a tantrum. Evolve, is it? And without revolt?
A handicapped breath gives way to a kidnapped cloud; we are not alone, one hopes. I am ever alone, I spoke. My eyes only for ghosts.
Another poem of mine, “What The Bees Know”, is featured in issue 3 of The Ginger Collect. Have a read, along with other wonderful stories and poems!
I’m pleased to announce that a poem of mine entitled “Second Child” is included in issue 3 of The Ginger Collect. Read it here: https://thegingercollect.com/issue-three-the-ginger-collect/issue-three-poetry/secondchild/