the world explodes inside her head
fragments of memory
travel at light-speed
folding into grey matter
she crumples in a graceful heap
lands with her face toward the sky
registers fast-tracking clouds
then moves inside
into her own light
blood mixes with neurons
image with matter
breaching the boundary between
known and unknown
zigzag flashes of purple
blossom in unreadable code
I smell roses. Does it have to be roses?
a river of whispers surrounds her
she feels herself sinking
soft hands stroke her arms and face
she twists away
and spirals into forever
in a long slow glide
Is anybody out there?
Diana Kolpak is a storyteller who uses theatre, fiction, clown, poetry, music and photography as her media. Published works include the play Bedtime Stories (in Ontario Playwrights: 8 Short Plays) and the children’s book Starfall. She has an MFA in Directing and is Artistic Director of Whetstone Productions.
An Audience at the Cumberlisheen Regional Historical Society, 19th August 2018, 4:12pm
by Gregory Jones
... Look at my unpilfered bracelets, at least, if you won't take a straight-on look at one of your betters ...
by Brett Harrington
... surrounded by plinks / of picks, / whispers rippling / through mist ...