Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Day's End

The threshold - an invisible barrier between the never-ending hum of the larger spaces under the pitched roof; beyond, a diffused calmness longed for as the shadows claim the places once dappled with sunlight and sound.

Feet sink into thick carpet, pleasingly cushioning weighted steps across the room. Antique lace curtains ripple as summer puffs tiny breaths of coolness scented by Moonflowers in through a trio of oak framed windows - the cascade of night voices rise and fall as if in unison with the gentle winds. A well-worn overstuffed chair sits beside the lacquered old sewing box that was her mother's, its contents neatly arranged by size and color. Filtered moonlight echoes back from the mirror over the decades old wooden bureau and illuminates the gilded frames which hold the smiling faces of her most beloved. Beyond, the simple bed adorned in hand quilted finery beckons repose.

Monday, February 7, 2011


There's a London phone booth sitting in the doorway. This is where she keeps her DVDs. And her reading lamp. Her reading lamp is from Peter Pan, but she never turns the light on because there are lights built into the ceiling. There are suitcases from the early 20th century filled with nothing. And candle shrines, sparkling bottles filled with lights. Magic wands and remote controls. 5 guitars that shine abalone. Percussion and piano. Her finest purchase is a cheeseboard that she uses for everything but cheese. These are the things my sister collects in her bedroom. These are the things that make her bedroom my favorite home away from home.

Beach Scene

A peach bedspread loomed in quilted ridges across a four-poster bedframe made of scrolled metal painted white. The headboard rolled in curlicues like a pale gothic mansegate, and the posts were twisted like barber poles. On the wall facing the bed there was a window, and over this was a luminous stained glass picture of a beach scene with a massive gilded frame. Rolling turquoise waves glowed obscenely, and in the upper left corner, a brilliant red sun squatted, top-wide and fat. Black seagulls crawled flylike across a pork-pale, iridescent sky. Through the whole thing you could see faintly the stubbled brown backyard, a rusted swingset, and the clouding top of a brackish arborvitae studded with crows.

Portrait of a Bedroom

Hi from the Herkimer!

Hard, grey cat turds festooned every corner. There was nothing on the scuffed white walls but a large poster of Boy George.

This week, describe a person by describing that person's bedroom.

Write with guts!

Filthy carpets, galley windows, and multiple cats,