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Another refreshing and insightful column by Melissa Wiley: 'Paper Swans: Apples of the Earth'. As always, she manages to turn a handful of childhood memories into a lyrical and colorful reverie, offering a riot of images and ideas for us readers.

Sometimes when I tilt my head, to read a book on a train, fluid drains inside my ear without leaving. When I smack the side of my face and say, “Hey, what’s going on in there?” Because water resists sliding down my cheek in a streak forked like pallid lightning. Because the world grows less slippery while the apples just keep falling, from branches whose low-hanging fruit is still too high for grasping.

Original #Prose from Gina Mulligan: 'Gleanings'. A collection of letters that unfolds a story from an important time in history.

June 2, 1887

Dearest Margaret,

Our trip abroad has taken a most unfortunate turn. Dear Celeste fell ill to consumption on the steamer and remains in the hospital, me by her side with a damp cloth and boiled water lest the foreign well make her worse. Completion of our work here is now unknown, so please pray for Celeste’s recovery. I hate to end with such a sour mood, but her situation is quite grave.

Your loving,

Harriet

#Prose Wednesday and we have an epistolary work of fiction by Gina Mulligan, 'The Gadabout'. A love story, really, and so much more. Enjoy.

June 3, 1886.

Dear Miss Sophia Rinaldi —

Though this evening I was, in fact, parading through the parlor in a pea coat and sporting cap, my poor choice in costume takes nothing away from your mesmerizing smile or lilting accent. If the room was not so cleared by the time I discovered you by the champagne fountain, I might have slipped my hand around your elbow and led you to the secluded balcony under pretense of becoming overheated. Ah, the foils of timing and adequate ventilation.

#Poetry Tuesday and we have Ross Knapp's 'When in London' -- a prose poem that's in the tradition of Baudelaire's 'Get Drunk'. [Although, of course, the latter meant it in a larger sense -- "With wine, poetry, or virtue, // as you choose!"]

When in London, juniper always juts its way up my nose, down my gullet, that blast of pine tree, temporarily feel the fuel oil burn, traditional imperial aristocratic swill, chilled clear stoic tone, then shortly after a fresh fanaticism for life, ecstatic euphoria, enthusiasm, finally free, a contagious whirlwind, everyone’s a best friend.

#poetry #poem #london #ross knapp

#Poetry Tuesday and we have 'When Liz Met Dick' by Amy Schreibman Walter. The poem captures some of the electric energy of when these two screen icons met.

Dick was Anthony to her Cleopatra – theatrically gripping his coffee cup, playing at shaky hands.

The December Storyacious Playlist is here. Mark Keene, our Contributing Editor, has some choice picks for you to kick off this Christmas season with.

Published a couple of days late this month, but as good as ever, Jessica Barksdale's latest Storyacious Practices column is all about beginnings.

Of course, the above title is not always true. Starting at the literal start of our story is not necessarily a smart notion, though folks do recommend it. When I asked the novelist Charles Baxter how to avoid all the flashback scenes I was so fond of at the time, he simply said, “Start your story earlier.” There is, of course, a lot of advice about how, where, and when to launch into your tale. Lists, charts, and tables of dos and don’ts, some of which I’ll provide you with below.

#Poetry Tuesday and we have 'TV-Land' by Amy Schreibman Walter. Imagine one of those cheesy romantic TV sit-com scenes from the 60s and how they might have worked in real life. Then, try turning that into poetry. Right. That.

I could be a blonde with bangs in a far-fetched sixties sit-com, burning through suburbia, my mini-dress the color of ripe pineapples. I think of it while watching I Dream of Jeannie in my motel room.

#poetry #poem #amy schreibman walter

#Prose Wednesday and we have an excerpt from Phyllis Green's new epistolary novel, 'Polly & Veronica'. A charmingly-told and bittersweet coming-of-age story that unfolds in intimate letters between two cousins.

Dear Veronica,

You probably don’t remember me. I am your 2nd or 3rd cousin twice removed, whatever that means. We came to visit you once. I thought you looked like Margaret O’Brien with your pretty eyes and dark curly hair. What is wrong with you anyhow? Can’t you ever get out of bed?

#Poetry Tuesday and we have 'Legend of a Perfume' by Benjamin Schmitt. Spanning continents and centuries, a beautiful narrative about the story behind a perfume and how such stories can still linger in collective memories.

Sadness drifts from your neck; some melancholy perfume purchased at the market. Could this be the fabled Chinese bottle of perfume made in ancient Rome from gladiator sweat and roses?

#poetry #poem #benjamin schmitt

#Music Monday and we have ‘Teardrops & Pennies’ by Jont. A lovely song with a true life story underlying it. Sure to warm anyone’s heart and a great way to start your week. Enjoy.

As I told my life story to Oonagh, I told her something I hadn’t told many people, that, potentially, I had a daughter out there. I had seen a photo on Facebook about a year previously and, even though, a long time before, the mother had made it clear to me that I wasn’t the father, the photo did look an awful lot like me.

#Prose Wednesday and we have a love-and-war story of sorts. 'Two Bullets' by Jake Sheff shows us that, in the end, whether in war or in love, some men do try to live life to its fullest.

Sex and art and science culminated in this moment, so impermanent, the only trace, the only ruin or reminder of it ever happening is there, nearly imperceptible, on Dame Consuela’s delicate-as-Baby’s-Breath hair on the nape of her neck, the exact location I’ve chosen to place my face in my time of dying.

#Poetry Tuesday and we have 'The Moon Rose Red' by Ralph Monday. A beautiful poem that merges fairytale and real life images to create a surreal cinema with words. Enjoy.

You know how it is when you look at the red moon. Without watching the moon would not be there.

This is the same when you walked through snow thinking of the slow grouse someone would hunt and roast for Christmas dinner

#poetry #poem #ralph monday

#Music Monday and we have a brand new song by The Bookshop Band: O Happy Fair. Based on Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', it's from their album, 'Happy 450th Birthday, Shakespeare', comprising of songs commissioned by the V&A Museum in London. Enjoy.

#music #shakespeare #the bookshop band

Did you catch up on our weekend #poem? 'Plans' by Stuart Dischell is a beautiful narrative about how, often, the grander visions we have of our ideal lives are more vivid than the daily world around us.

She plans to be a writer one day and live in the City of Paris, Where she will describe the sun as it rises over Buttes-Chaumont. “Today the dawn began in small pieces, sharp wedges of light Broke through the clouds.” She plans to write better than this

#poetry #poem #stuart dischell

Contributing Editor, Melissa Wiley, has a new column out: "Mute's Song". Enjoy her unique take on ugly ducklings and swans and how the throes of death unlocks their silent throats for that final, beautiful swan song. Well, it's not quite as morbid as all that, actually. Quite the contrary.

Why are we not eating our swans, butchering them whole then hurtling them onto the grill, here on our porches while we sing and play our guitars? There are so many of them, supplying such ready meat, within our public parks. The Virgin Queen liked hers baked with butter, salted in a coffin of rich, rye paste.

Read on.

#paper swans #melissa wiley #essay #literature #memoir

#Poetry Tuesday and you've never heard the story of Jonah and the Whale quite like this: 'Never Cross Da Boss' by Art Heifetz. Enjoy.

(Lucky Luciano’s version of the Jonah story)

Never cross Da Boss. He asks him to go down to Ninevah, set the gang there straight, no rough stuff, just a little par-lay, and Jonah says just kill them all.

#poetry #poem #jonah #art heifetz

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