Statuesque II

Embalming marble corpses, chased with earth
and gold, exhuming amber knuckle bones,
upending ores of afterlife, a dearth
of animated moss and stones —

Recall the body, once inscribed by men
as beauty manifest, divine in form.
And now, collapsing jasper wonders when
its effigy would ever be so warm

as living flesh, as dripping tear, as blood
and skin and breath. For calcified, the cast
of Venus, bronzed and cold, deprives of flood
and blush — in this, she knows her chance has passed.

— the spade, it snapped. The bust, in dust, recoiled
her jewel from ancient light: the myrtle spoiled.

© 2017 Stellular Scribe

Cage-Free II

plucked from down of
giantess, marked by
viral fingerprint

as an unintended
nucleus of crumpled avian stock,
soon set to Styrofoam

sitting among a dozen
sound, a dozen round
and weighty, waiting

in all entirety, until
forced to collapse quietly,
taking in the break of keratin

and vacuuming air and
unconscionable
sunlight, and then

trailing the totality,
slavering as what was certain
looses at the seams

left hugging
in desperation
to the negative space:

a plaster cast, a non-portrait
of unfertilized yolk and runny
meringue, an unlikeness

holding against the light,
all membrane
and concavity

the kidnapped afterbirth
of the cage-free,
stinging the thief’s cast-iron

© 2017 Stellular Scribe

Music Mondays Part XX

Well, it’s been a long couple of weeks. Whether you follow American politics or not, and no matter your opinions for or against the president elect, I feel like we all just need to relax. Unwind. Take a breather. Think about your loved ones. Drink some tea. Listen to this calming instrumental playlist I made just for you.

And, of course, write.



Happy writing!:)

Writing Kindling #11

Writer’s block may seem like a terminal illness, but sometimes the smallest of sparks can “kindle” your craft. Today we have the digital painting “Salar de Uyuni” by fromsky.

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“Salar de Uyuni” by fromsky

Ask yourself: Who are they? Where are they? What are they feeling? What are they about to do? Write about who they are, what situation they are in, and what they will do next. It can be a poem, short story, long fiction, anything — let the kindling commence!

I’d love to hear what you come up with. Feel free to share your writing in the comments!

Music Remembers

Baseem split the cherry between his fingers. Red juice stained the grooves of his thumb and dripped off the end of his fingernail. He rubbed the pads of his fingers together, mashing the berry into a raw, bloody pulp. When he was finished, he flicked the mangled remains off the side of the deck and held his hand up for me to see.

Ya amar, do you hear it?” he asked.

My flute felt cold between my fingers, and I lowered it to my lap. “Hear? Don’t you mean see?

“No, hear. I have wondered if you can hear it too, the way I can. If when you press your lips to your reed and blow you can hear the colors, or at least imagine them before they erupt like spitting embers from your instrument.” He rotated his wrist in front of his face, studying the red seeping down his palm. “When you played the friscalleto, I heard this precise shade. Cherry red. Like the wine we acquired from Donnalucata. Like the poppies that covered the hills beyond the beach. Like the fire that —”

I turned my head away, and I hated myself for the bitterness that glassed my eyes. “I hear no colors, signore. I am afraid that the visual arts are not my area of expertise.”

“Ah, but music is the highest of all visual arts,” Baseem said, his eyes smiling. “You know better than anyone, Ludovica, that music remembers. Music is memory. And what is memory if not visual?” He crossed the deck towards me, taking heavy, deliberate steps with the heels of his boots. “There is an aching in your compositions. A red. A remembrance. You must hear it.”

Mama’s ribbon. Papà’s steamed crab. Cosima’s rosary beads. Orazio’s blood.

I flooded my face of expression.


An excerpt from a work-in-progress.

Music Mondays: Part XIX

Admittedly, the following two playlists accompany a very specific genre for writing. However, medieval and early European music can fuel more than your mere historical epic — it can serve as a calming motor throughout your day, from its mathematically exquisite stanzas to its lulling Gregorian chant and lute-work.

Take more than just a step back in time with these mixes. Submerge yourself in the Dark Ages, for all its grit, orthodoxy, and simplicity.



Happy writing!:)

Writing Kindling #10

Writer’s block may seem like a terminal illness, but sometimes the smallest of sparks can “kindle” your craft. Today I bring you a list of ten 1-2 sentence writing prompts that will help build up your white blood cells and give writer’s block a good kick in the pants. Copy them, tweak them, consider them, leave them. It’s up to you!


  1. The doctor kept the room uncomfortably warm.
  2. They took to each other like wick and flame.
  3. She dunked the silk dress in oil.
  4. He shrugged, unconcerned, and plopped the dead rabbit at her feet.
  5. She only now seemed to realize the blood down the front of her shirt.
  6. His eyeteeth glisten when he smiles.
  7. “You straddle conclusions like a horse,” she accused.
  8. All he cared about was the flame in his gut that licked against his insides, telling him to burn, to burn until there was no fury left.
  9. His voice went for the jugular.
  10. The stones of the floor looked to be swelling, changing, climbing towards her face as she turned down the hall.

I’d love to hear what you come up with. Feel free to share your writing in the comments!

Happy writing!:)