"where does it bloom?" as they walked, she pointed to a ridge overlooking a deep ravine. he followed her quietly and recalled the sight of the olympus jutting proudly above the red sand. how far have we come? they seemed to have traveled out and back across the distant reaches of forever. time had been … Continue reading a time for love and beauty
Tag: Writing
the hardest part of letting others read my work is defending myself against the accusation of being the main character or the narrator.
a drop of condensed breath weaves a path down the heavily perspiring pane. visibility through the glass is nonexistent. he sighs. "it's beautiful." air escapes and a plume of frost billows out from behind the door. a scent of space and starlight enfolds him like an alien blanket. it's something he barely knows. vaguely aware … Continue reading the capsule
standing at the edge of my father's bed, i remembered what i wanted to say... and wept.
in the field where the wildflowers grow, a raindrop kissed my face. a breeze took my hand and danced me -- bent my stalk and swayed my stems -- to the promise of another splendid summer. "spring is here," it whispered. and is it beautiful.
as a young writer, i used to think that i was above revisions. after 30+ years of making mistakes, i now long for them.
i still look at your old house on ogden when i pass in hopes that i may see myself outside your door. i wasn’t so much a young man then, but younger still than today and full of the hope i promised you at 3 a.m. on the cool pavement of your porch, or barefooted … Continue reading emma’s house revisited
Nicolas Gonzales 