White Sunday 327: little voices by williamfdevault, literature
Literature
White Sunday 327: little voices
little voices
so loud
as bare feet hammer tracks
through the house
sticky doorknobs
and the sudden awareness
that you just heard the sound
of a whipped cream fight
breaking out in the kitchen
nothing bruised but pride
nothing broken but the rules
and the world re-engaged
through the eyes of children
who think of you
as perfect
because I told them you were
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Writing erotica: A one-handed occupation by growinluvhandles, journal
Writing erotica: A one-handed occupation
People are often asking my advice on writing erotica.
Now, I don't pretend to do this better than anyone else.
I hope I'm better in bed than on the page, to tell the truth.
However, the best advice I can give is to read an article on writing sex scenes which was published in Utne Reader some years ago. It is an excellent article and deals with the nuts and bolts (or nuts and other body parts) very well -- and in a fun way.
Here is the link to it:
http://www.utne.com/Literature/How-To-Write-A-Sex-Scene.aspx
One place in there he mentions that it is okay to be aroused by your own writing -- whether you are writing with one hand or two.
She used to tell me
of math and poetry
by the length of her arm
and rhythm of her heart
condensing verse and fraction
with form following the function
of communist theories
and greek philosophies.
she beat out aesthetics
with a perfect symmetry.
because no one understands
the relationship between
seafoam and shoreline
the way she does
[swimming in saltwater sorrows]
reimagining time in an hourglass,
she shot up infinities with a glance
and left me moondrunk in the night.
she emits sparks throughout my system
breaking and entering--
my kingdom under siege.
her name was an amalgam of numbers
1.61803399 . . . .
and I lov
Your sky shines the color
of my ocean and
my sea reflects your moon.
We play with stars,
catching them before they fall.
Wishing they knew how
to love the way that we do.
To get a glimpse of what hope
is supposed to look like.
You can trust that my eyes
will teach you how to follow
my soul.
I want to show you that beauty
is in fact, in the eyes of the beholder
and give you the glow that I know
you possess in your veins.
I want to teach you how to hold my hand.
To squeeze it when you're scared and learn
how to fall softly into my arms.
I want you to know how to say
I love you in 10 different ways
and to say them all with