la louve à la lune ǀ the wolf to the moon
Original works of poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction and essays by A. M. Wilsonne
Some days, I feel more alive than others. Some days, I feel like the walking dead. Today, right now, life rushes through limbs to my brain, and I'm writing a poem of pain that's, for now, gone away. To get out of my head, even onto paper, to get out of my head and take in,... Continue Reading →
Would the air hurt youWould the bird clip you r petalsWould the caterpillar find you beautiful-beautiful and delicious to consume,to digest Would you and the extension of your flesh,open to the elements, displayed splayed unto the world,finally signed-on to participate,meet death To bloom,is it less painful than to regret regrets?than to resist the outing of... Continue Reading →
As I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling, glasses off and no point of focus,I think of how I am trying so hard to keep above waterAnd the tears well like a tide and run down the sides of my face Copyright © 2018 A.M. Wilsonne https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U70rTYa5iz4 "Some hearts are built on... Continue Reading →
-"How are things?" -"Things are... things. Things are things are things are sand, a collection of broken pieces no longer solid rock, glass, dead inanimate things felled, écrase-d, reduced too small enough to run through the cracks of her fingers when she tries to pick him up. -"I'm thirsty." -"How are things?" -"In the... Continue Reading →
In the darkness of my drawer there lies an ocean of icy waters, been long tucked away from sun. Yesterday, I let one pull upon the handle to find an iceberg toward depths unknown to fears unsung. Copyright © 2018 A.M. Wilsonne ---- C.S. Lewis, "The Four Loves" "There is no... Continue Reading →
