Pretext: We spent a week in Samara, Costa Rica and I wrote 16 pages of poetry and prose. It was a week-long writing-intensive workshop. I was 19 at the time, and this reflects my immaturity, my growth, and my journey in my craft, and ability.
Unbroken Legacy
At the front of the small empty courtroom C.D. raising her deep-set hazel eyes against the incumbent heat, reviewed the room for reachable windows. She opened them and then returned to the awkward slab of wood they had chosen for her, as a chair. Bracing her back against the obstructions of mahogany that supported her arms, she turned her body at odd angles and then made efforts to make herself comfortable. Drawing in the musty air, she was exhausted from five hours of traveling by cramped police buses. After fighting sleep for a few more minutes, C.D. simply gave in.
***
That pleasant morning of January 1850 the tail of Caroline’s uniform was invitingly white and the older woman’s hands sweetly adjusted the foreboding hem. Bright brown eyes complemented her habit and C.D. imagine they traced her grandmother’s then changing figure. There were no words in this memory. C.D. had never lived it, but her grandmother had told her this account.
There had never been a need for words between the Mother Superior and the then novice canoness. After all, a mentor has the most teachable moments viewing the statues of The Beloved Mary and admiring the Saint Francis of Assisi. Whether acknowledgement of Assisi as a town in central Italy is necessary, one never knows.
For all the moments C.D.’s grandmother had spent thinking of going to Italy in those days, to delight in the truth and the lies of the stigmata many bittersweet tears were shed. In this memory of youth, C.D.’s grandmother knew that she would have to quickly embrace being a prioress, even if she cared very little for celibacy, chastity or charity. Caroline gently moved her heart and her hem in the same direction and away from the order of her life. For her, heaven was too far to reach, while hell and earth seemed to meet at the same place, the moment she rejected all the desperate expectations lain before her.
“You have been given a splendid opportunity my child,” echoed the voices of both Caroline’s mothers, in her delicate mind. At that point, she hated her delicate mind, bound by such selfless exploits such as giving up her hopes of freely seeing the world, beyond a regiment veil.
“You vow to give yourself purely to Christ Our Lord and to the service of His people and giving to the least, the most?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You vow to give everything you have, to the poor and to the needy?” The longest pause of Caroline’s life, took three seconds to take it’s course.
“Yes, I do,” she solemnly replied.
“In the sight of God and the presence of these witnesses I affirm, by the power invested in me, by the Catholic church at Rome, as your archbishop that you, Caroline Linton have been accepted into the Franciscan Order.
***
“Caroline, we are so very proud of you,” replied my aunt in a seemingly indifferent voice. I was so comfortable here, that I had forgotten those many heated arguments that had ignited the birth of my alter ego, the nemesis Carl Douglas Gore. This was a hidden life that I could use recklessly to bail carnage on the church at Rome. Playing roles was painful but only to a point. There was one thing that I would never lose lust for, and that one thing was revenge. C.D. Gore was brazen, insolent and undeniably crude. His work was controversial and reviewed by many as overtly and excessively critical of tradition. He was believed to be an effeminate man, yet strong in mind. This was the only acknowledgement that he was a male figure in the church. Radical, was the most gentle of adjectives used with regard to a man considered as a heretic in a time that demanded women be knowledgeable but not excessively acknowledged for this trait.
“Many assume that I have hidden my feelings. But I have been true to myself in every word I have published thus far. Men, women, the sexes, possess their differences so that they may complement each other, not gain the power they seek over each other. Where your brother lacks, you will give him freely. Why then would you deny your sister, what she deserves? Grant her the education she longs for. Let her possess the knowledge she yearns for, and let her test her own wisdom. After all, God would grant her wisdom, so she may reflect His image in her beauty and elegance. Does your arrogance blind you to the fact that, if she is truly no threat, arming her and letting her wage war will prove such? After all, how could she challenge you intellectually if her mind cannot appreciate the things this world possesses? ”
***
“Knowing that my order was in danger because of what may have been promiscuous dealings with obstinate journalists willing to compromise their own personal beliefs, for money, I could no longer publish under the pen name, C.D. Gore and carefully removed my veil, gave up my vows and quietly removed myself before I was knowingly expelled. As clumsily as it all happened, I do not regret that I left Sicily and migrated to Rome. After all…”
“But grandmother, there were so many that you left behind.” Deep set hazel eyes looked back at her. Hidden behind unruly brown and black curls, a young, impressionable girl sat at the feet of a woman who had seen the world, at its worst and seen her opportunity to change it, and did so, well. Those admiring eyes glowed with knowing. Knowing, that one day, she would have to choose, but that because of efforts like her grandmother’s her choice would not be so difficult.
“…And yes that is true, but after all, I have you, Caroline. I have all that I adore. I would live my life over again, and choose the truth once again. No one can take that away from me.”
Reaching up, holding ever so tightly, the young vital love that encompassed her throat, made the choice Caroline had made so many years before, once again so worthwhile in the sight of God and Caroline Linton-Duke needed no witnesses at all.
***
Those deep-set hazel eyes belonged to C.D. If she had known that one day she too would embrace all the things her grandmother had, she would have held on a little tighter, a little longer for the sake of her own life spring.
“Ms. Caroline Deborah Linton-James, also known as C.D. Gore,” the bailiff summoned, anxious to start the proceedings.
C.D. tore herself from dreamful sleep, understanding for herself that the tribunal staring back at her as she rose to stand, would simply be another moment when history would silence a woman, with a view, a belief and a dream.
———————–
Daydream Diver
“It isn’t possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.” His thick, overconfident voice boomed and echoed. Echoed into her broken soul.
“He knew nothing of love! Nothing,” her translucent mind murmured beneath his vessel.
He entered her as gently as he could and she knew that he had learned love from the gods. The pleasure that overcame her was mind-numbingly incredible, as any given experience is allowed to blow your mind. It felt insanely good and as he delved deeper and reached further into her, she knew that he would never find the darkest depths of her, but the way he tried was worthy of much praise. His hands, with each stroke took from her the insecurities of never being touched so passionately. He had found a plateau that very few had even viewed in their need to experience her. His fingers trailed along her, savoring being solely around her. With her body, understandably enveloping him. The movement of her body against his fingers gave him a rush of self-assurance.
Then as he began further exploration of the depths of her, the feeling of a devouring abyss came over him. As quickly as he had resolved to know her fully, nature took its course. She held her breath, as soon as he began to hold his and it was then that they both knew he had gone too deep.
Adjusting his bearings, he searched for a source of air. Unable to find oxygen, he began to gasp. This was the one thing he had been taught never to do. In the presence of her, do not gasp. If you did, she would consume your entire being. And faithful to her nature, she consumed him, each lung first and then every site of nitrogen, as his body began to rise. As the oxygen seeped out, so did his eternal love. How could he not love one that had nurtured his passions? Yet, how could he love one that was stealing his ability to breathe? How could he love one willing to take his life, and replace it with her life? To love one willing to rip him apart and coldly leave him for dead. Willing to leave him with nothing.
“Nothing I say! He knew nothing,” she reprimanded his dead body, floating on her surface.
——————
Samara
Bless God!? The heat
The rising temperature, the wicked sun
Ruthless in its radiant love
Burning holes in my depressing dream
Of walking along this boundless beach
Covering my toes with the warm sand
So far away from you, the tide drowning dream
This sestina, holding my dream
So caught exhausted in the heat
I’ll sleep here on the sand
Watching the setting sun
Engulf my friends and I on the beach
And the only thing to protect us, Your love
Don’t give up on love
Hold on to every dream
Algo, algien could be waiting on the beach
Enduring the ever increasing heat
And boldly reaching for the sun
Bury all imitations below the shaping sand
Revel in the sea, the sand
You may find that the search for love
Is closer than the assurance of the sun
And exists outside this dream
Beyond the formidable heat
There is nothing quite like this beach
My mind, lost on the Samara beach
Scattered into the warm sand
My body melts quickly in the crushing heat
And it was obvious my love
My soul is obsessed with this dream
Memories of kissing you under the mirror of the sun
One more day under the inconsiderate sun
And I may shed blood on the hidden beach
This will only be, as my unfading dream
Me slipping through your fingers like those grains of sand
Hoping only for true love
In this world of cannibal heat
Tie up my fragile dream; whip it with this brutal heat
In the intensity of the sun, I will own this beach
Hope in this love, transform with the heat
——————-
One Night w/Danielle
“Miss you?”
Daniel laughed; sharp pains sliced the remains of her heart. She could never love another man. She let the anger course through her bothered nerves.
“Choose now, and death to what you leave behind.”
How could he?
Why would he?
Leave me alone in a world
He knew was
As cruel
As he was
Smeared with blood and with bitter tears the page tore under the pressure of her fingertips. Her heart had changed, and it could no longer see the beauty in them. They had insulted her, abused her, taken her love for granted and now, it was too much to bear.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Yes?”
“But you’re sure this is what you want?”
“Yes?”
Letting her eyes trail along her collarbone, beautiful, fragile, identically proud, sharp desires took her away from all she’d been taught.
“I don’t love you Daniel,” that too had been a lie.
Numb and fearful she leaned in to kiss her, afraid that she would enjoy this first kiss, this first moment, with reluctant anticipation she cleared her mind. Then she let the room take her in. It lacked her inhibitions, covered in rock and roll posters, the bed, the regal centerpiece and the ceiling covered in mirrors.
A moment to gaze out the window, the peal of the church bells announced three o’clock. The omen pulled her back and broke the moment when Danielle tried to embrace her.
———————————–
This exercise had very specific criteria:
| Genre: Postcard Story | Word Limit: 306 |
| Location: Samara, Guanacaste | Time Limit: 45 Minutes |
| Time: Feb. 22, 2007 5:15pm | Difficulty: High |
Cadillac Love
“Reach down and give me that cloth please”
“Which cloth? Reach where?”
Dominic and Jess, always raising their voices at each other. Such fools in love. Why couldn’t they see what I saw? Dominic’s pursed lips matched the instinctive rolling of his eyes when Jess annoyed him. There wasn’t anything extra special about her, but she was beautiful, extravagantly beautiful at that.
As waves of sweat dripped down his rugged body, I was glad that he’d given up pro surfing, to be a mechanic. I personally thought he was a better mechanic than he was anything else.
It would have been a waste of my beauty if I had been used only to get to the beach, and a sin to pawn me for a surfboard.
I’m as multi-functional as Dominic will ever get. After all, the many nights he fell asleep on the back of this beautiful blue ’88 Cadillac, I couldn’t keep track.
I’d never had the courage to tell Dominic how many times I’d fallen in love with him over and over again. Or how much I cared for him. He was pretty damn awesome. I suppose I added to his magnetic irresistibility.
As Jess got drawn into that same air, I could tell they were made for each other. In the same way I knew Dominic was made for me and I for him, the first time he drove my premium Goodyear© tires off the cement driveway and onto the warm asphalt.
———————-
Keep me at The Quad
Do you want a drink?
Sure, if I get you with it.
I only thought that
But by the end of the night
I couldn’t get enough
And this smile
Corrupting my face
Came from spending that night with you
Dancing all over the assumptions between us
Not knowing we’d be together soon enough
I would do it all again
Even the broken glass
The black stiletto pumps
And I’d resurrect that red mini
If you asked me to
But I’ll never pay to get into The Quad ever again.
I made my alliances with you,
That innocent morning after.
Maybe it was then I realized I cared so much for you
And that I’d give up everything
Including my precious sleep.
I enjoyed everything about you that night
And I remember the way you spoke
Broke my walls and expectations with expectation.
My presumptions of you fell over that balcony
And I anticipated us finally growing close.
Do you want a drink?
Sure, if I get you with it.
—————————-
Insignificant Without You
Looking out on Your unbroken tapestry
The untamed ocean helps me marvel
The tune of that song reverberates
‘I stand to praise You, but I fall on my knees
My spirit is willing but my flesh is so weak
Light the fire in my weary soul
Fan the flame make my spirit whole
Lord You know just where I’ve been
So light the fire in my heart again’
And humming that tune to myself
I look out,
The image of a friend
Our footprints trail along the sands
And time will wash us apart
And away
And I suppose it’s okay
For now
To be happy that hope exists.
I look in,
There again an image of Your majesty
You’re perfect
For your creation
And now I realize why we are not.
We are insignificant,
Without You
Insignificant Without You (Part 2)
Walking along the beach
And I can hear
The sand boldly praising you
As the tide draws back into the ocean
Air pockets burst
And they clap
I know that I too
Must
Praise you
In everything I do,
In every thought,
Every obedient deed
What more
Have You ever
Asked of me
————————————–
Bonds on A Beach: This Business of Love
SKELETON
Boy on a beach takes a pee. A girl walks past, he sings. The girl doesn’t notice him, but she notices his ice cream store. She wants to buy an ice cream but can’t pick a flavor. He recommends the special. She drops her ice cream; he smiles and gives her another scoop. The girl giggles. They begin to talk. A dog licks ice cream off her toe. He apologizes about the dog. She shrugs her shoulders. She asks for directions, he offers to show her. He locks up the ice cream store, and leaves.
AS AND LIKE
A boy like you or me, on a beach as long as Sesame Street, takes a pee under a tree as tall as the sea is deep. A girl walks past as slowly and carefully as he washes his hands. He sings as enthusiastically as she rings the service bell. The girl as observant as my Macbook is white doesn’t notice him like all the other girls had never noticed him in the back of his store, but she notices his ice cream store as the way its standing next to his tree is as stately as she looks. She wants to buy an ice cream as badly as he wants to ask her, her name but as much as she can’t pick a flavor he can’t ask that question. He recommends the special as mindlessly as his eyes review her face. As unfortunate as it is for the sun to set everyday, she drops her ice cream and like a bomb it begins their first conversation; he smiles as sweetly as a rescued dolphin and gives her another scoop as unselfishly as fate is sometimes convenient. The girl giggles like a girl in an awkwardly pleasant moment would. They begin to talk as comfortably as this piece is random. A dog as adorable as Alexis’ currently sour face licks ice cream off her toe as sticky as ice cream on accommodating skin. He apologizes about the dog that looks like as if it too is truly sorry. She shrugs her shoulders with as much effort as this song in the background of my mind takes to block out the world around me. She asks for directions as clueless, as I was of Samara before we arrived here a few days ago. He offers to show her like a tour guide, possibly with motives. He locks up the ice cream store as PDQ as thunder runs behind lightning and as a lovesick boy follows his young muse, and as reluctantly as she smiles, he leaves.
ADJECTIVES
A young, honest, ambitious boy like you or me, on a tourist viable beach as long as Sesame Street, takes a long, warm pee under a menacing tree as tall as the sea is deep. An innocent tourist girl walks past as slowly and carefully as he washes his urine-dirty hands. He sings as enthusiastically as she rings the chirpy service bell. The teenaged girl as observant as my Macbook is white doesn’t notice him, like all the other girls had never noticed him in the back of his store, but she notices his attractive, lucrative ice cream store, as the way its standing next to his majestic tree is as stately as she looks. She wants to buy a delicious ice cream as badly as he wants to ask her, her evading name but as much as she can’t pick a mouthwatering flavor he can’t ask that vital, icebreaking question. He recommends the succulent special as mindlessly as his eyes review her smiling face. As unfortunate as it is for the sun to set everyday, she drops her enjoyable ice cream and like an atomic bomb it begins their first conversation; he smiles as sweetly as a rescued dolphin and gives her another scoop as unselfishly as fate is sometimes convenient. The appreciative girl giggles like a girl in an awkwardly pleasant moment would. They begin to talk as comfortably as this piece is random. A pedigree Shiatsu dog as adorable as Alexis’ currently sour face licks ice cream off her little toe as sticky as ice cream on accommodating skin. He apologizes about the friendly dog that looks as if it too is truly sorry. She shrugs her relaxed, tanned shoulders with as much effort as this Carnival song in the background of my working mind takes to block out the busy world around me. She asks for directions as clueless, as I was of Samara before we arrived here a few days ago. He offers to show her like a charitable tour guide, with other hidden motives. He locks up the ice cream store as PDQ as roaring thunder runs behind flashing lightning and as a lovesick boy follows his young muse, and as reluctantly as she smiles, he leaves.
SEARCH FOR SENSE
A young, honest, ambitious, but not always the most hygienic boy, like you or me, on a tourist viable beach as long as Sesame Street, takes a long, warm pee under a menacing tree as tall as the sea is deep. Then an innocent tourist girl walks past as slowly and carefully as he washes his urine-dirty hands. He sings a Carnival song and shakes his blonde dreadlocks as enthusiastically as she rings the chirpy service bell but much more quietly. The teenaged girl as observant as my Macbook is white doesn’t notice him, like all the other girls had never noticed him in the back of his store, but she notices his attractive and most seemingly lucrative ice cream store, as the way its standing next to his majestic tree is notably as stately as she looks.
She wants to buy a delicious ice cream as badly as he wants to ask her, her evading name which Jah has told him is beautiful, but as much as she can’t pick a mouthwatering flavor he can’t ask that vital, icebreaking question.
He recommends the succulent special as mindlessly as his eyes review her smiling face. As unfortunate as it is for the sun to set everyday, she drops her enjoyable ice cream and like an atomic bomb it begins their first but certainly not their last conversation. He smiles as sweetly as a rescued dolphin and gives her another scoop as unselfishly as fate is sometimes convenient. The appreciative girl giggles, like a girl in an awkwardly pleasant moment would.
They begin to talk as comfortably as this piece is random. A pedigree Shiatsu dog as adorable as Alexis’ currently sour face licks ice cream off her little toe as sticky as ice cream on accommodating skin. He apologizes about the overtly friendly dog that looks as if it too is truly sorry. She shrugs her totally relaxed, tanned shoulders with as much effort as this Carnival song in the background of my working mind takes to block out the busy world around me. She asks for directions as clueless, as I was of Samara before we arrived here a few days ago. He kindly offers to show her like a charitable tour guide, with other hidden motives but his motives are pure.
He locks up the ice cream store as PDQ as roaring thunder runs behind flashing lightning and as a lovesick Rasta boy follows his young muse, and in that moment, as reluctantly as she smiles, he leaves to show her Trinidad.
ABSOLUTELY AWESOME
A young, honest, ambitious boy, but not always the most hygienic, like you or me, on a tourist viable beach as long as Wall Street, takes a low-cost yet solvent pee under a menacing tree as tall as her bank account was deep. Then the innocent, endowed Jamaican tourist girl saunters past with careful stiletto steps as he washes his urine-dirty hands.
He sings ‘Dollar-Whine’ and shakes his blonde dreadlocks as enthusiastically as she rings the chirpy service bell but much more quietly. The asset-full girl as observant as her Macbook was white doesn’t notice him, like all the other girls had never noticed him in the back of his store, but she first notices his attractive and what seems lucrative ice cream store, as the way its standing next to his majestic tree is notable and as impressive as she looked.
She wants to buy, delicious, cold ice cream and as she purchases it, she longs for it as much as he wants to ask her, he imagines her reputable name which, Ras Tafari has assured him is beautiful. But as much as she can’t pick a mouthwatering, rewarding flavor he can’t ask that vital, icebreaking, decisive question.
He recommends that she invest in the succulent, salient special as his mindless observation of her continues and his eyes review her smiling face that promise sweet returns. As unfortunate as it is for the sun to set on the everyday stock market, she gets caught up in her own analysis of him and drops her enjoyable ice cream and like a market crash, their first real but certainly not their last transaction begins. He smiles as sweetly as a liquidized asset and gives her another scoop as unselfishly as fate is sometimes economic. The appreciative and responsive girl giggles, like a girl in an awkwardly pleasant scenario would.
They begin to talk in comfortable trusting tones. A pedigree Labrador dog as pleasing as maturing stocks, licks sticky ice cream off her little toe that bonds to her accommodating skin. He apologizes about the reliable and friendly dog that looks as if it too is truly sorry. She shrugs her relaxed, tanned, unbothered shoulders with as much effort as his song in the background of his working mind takes to block out the busy world around him. She asks for directions, trying to hide how clueless she is of this new environment she’s entering and exposes her vulnerability. He kindly offers to show her, her options like a charitable stockbroker, but she has confidence that his motives are pure.
He locks up the ice cream store as PDQ as roaring digits run down the stock exchange tower, behind flashing lights and as a lovesick Rasta boy follows his young muse, and in that moment, as reluctantly as she smiles, he leaves to show her all Trinidad has to offer.
———————————
Leaking from My Subconscious
I don’t know what it is,
But something’s wrong
(Not right).
I’m not sure where the source is,
But I’m worried
About you.
Please tell me it’s nothing.
Tell me that I’m paranoid
And melodramatic.
Thinking now,
I haven’t communicated
With you in a little while
And I can only imagine
All the things you currently have
On your plate.
Not sure why I’ve even paid
Attention to the nagging
Rambling of my mind.
I feel far away from you,
And as much as I am used to that,
I still think of you and hope that all is well.
I wonder what’s new
In your world
And I’m innocently curious.
Been so long since I hugged you.
Since I kissed you.
Smiled at you.
Experienced the beautiful transition that ever so often
Takes place between us when we are
Fortunate enough to be together.
There I go being eloquently sentimental.
I recognize that you are
A pleasant source of inspiration,
But sometimes it scares me
How that inspiration
Leaks from my subconscious.
Live Well. Walk With Love 