Previously...
Thought I’d start blogging about Flash Fiction and Short Stories along with posting my own writing. It is my attempt to both understand the terrain better and to share whatever small insight I may glean from my search.
I ran across a couple of communities for artists that I thought might be of interest. First is Pangaeaa, it’s tag line is “bringing the art together.” Seems to be a robust online community and worth checking out. Second is Protagonize, it is an online communnity for writers and those that want to be writers. Third is Urbis which says they are helping writers market and find opportunities to market their work. Forth and last is UrbanSeeder, it is a site centered around communicating with people one on one.
Sometimes having a community of peers who comment on our work can be a good thing, of course sometimes it is the last thing any of us want. Make the choice either way on a daily basis, going down the same road everyday is a ticket to becoming stale.
Published by Craig Daniels //
Waiting
Door closed in front of me, knob waiting to be turned
Window closed but I can see, what’s waiting for me
Path at woods edge pointing me to nature,waiting
Mountain touching sky, waiting for me to climb
Lover laying exposed, arms on-top of head, waiting
Seven Eleven clerk distracted, waiting for me to pay
Car Wash cavernous tunnel waiting, drive in the tracks
Television’s blank stare, waiting for me, to press on
Email dot on the screen, waiting for your electric charge
Roads dusty with pollen, waiting for the rain
Dishes piled high staring at chrome fixtures, waiting
Graves baked, grass burnt, flowers wilted, waiting
Roadside humanity, doorway sitters, unshaven retches, waiting
Soldiers wife pushing out children, alone, waiting
Gurney’s stained with last nights fracas, waiting
Angels weeping, devils laughing, God vacationing, waiting
One Arm Bandits swallowing deeper then a whore, waiting
Pastor’s Priest, toll collectors of our souls, waiting
Time ripped from Form, waiting
Waiting waiting waiting waiting, waiting
Published by Craig Daniels //
Red Sourdough [1:28m]:
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Red Sourdough
Ancient cutting board pitted knife English country plates
Nervously cut toasted golden sourdough
Olive oil mayo slathered like meringue
Drizzling lemon puddles filling mayo crevices
Ripe juicy tomatoes sliced thick dripping blood
Steel grinds pepper fine infusing tomato membranes
Grated parmesan merging with pepper, tomato, lemon, mayo, bread
Fingers dripping delight with acidic juices spiced from nature
Lovers mouth waiting, open, receptive, yielding, famished
Each bite exciting nuanced earthy flavors, melding into something new
Silva juices mixing mashing liquefying ravishing sun air ground vines sweat
Juices dripping mouth neck breasts, drying like a mountain road
Stomach spreading satiated glow throughout our bodies
Lover’s juice encrusted fingers gently licked clean
Long soft kisses exchanging tangy sweet remnants, upon the kitchen table
Published by Craig Daniels //
Background Refrain [2:12m]:
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Background Refrain
The refrain in the background “Heroin” grabs my backbone, I sit straight up my left fingers reaching to caresses industrial tan monitor shell.
Lips pursed moving closer to the digital screen connecting me to the universe. Tongue licking glass trying to get in.
Again “Heroin” enters my bleeding ears sending orgasmic warmth into my chest into my crotch, “Heroin”.
Chills ramp through my body in both directions as I run ten fingers through my matted greasy hair, letting out a plaintive moan all drooling sexy.
Like a cardboard junkie I arch my chest rosteeresque, hands sliding from hair to nipples then knead stomach into a rounded shape relishing my touch.
“Heroin” naked behind my eyes everything turns maple syrup, walls melting couch rising up to receive my body.
“Heroin” hugs with the touch of my first lover all giddy, sliding glass against glass watching myself repeat it repeat it repeat it.
Sickly flame flickering melting my mind running out of time spent my last dime.
“Heroin” draining from my mind over taking my frightened fragile soul.
I guess I just don’t care I guess I just don’t care “Heroin” got me by the balls.
“Heroin” in the background of my mind, crawling under my skin crawling on the floor.
Can we go again, can we go again?
Published by Craig Daniels //
Posted on August 15th, 2008 in family, stuff
Sitting in a corner bar wishing things had been different with you
On my knee Randy the lush parodies Marilyn Monroe, asking if I’ll buy her another drink
Not wanting to feel those pesky lonely feelings I snap my fingers, for another round
A Credence cover band blasts out a respectable Susie-Q I like the way you walk, I like the way you talk, oh baby, I love you Susie-Q
I catch myself falling into Randy’s amply exposed bosom she just strokes my hair and says Oh honey, you paid for em
Rod Stewart steals the microphone grinds out “I recall the night we shared a dream” and the crowd goes wild. Rod shakes his arthritic hips wondering if this 79th attempted comeback will crack it open
Through the nicotine windows I watch all the people rush by Lou Reed press his face against the glass and sings “I see the Light” then merges with the suits
On cue Randy takes my hand saying Honey I’ll show you the light
Here we go again upstairs to chase away the pain of being all alone
I wonder – what’s going on
Published by Craig Daniels //
Crap Crap Crap [3:08m]:
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Crap Crap Crap
Crap crap crap that’s all this is my editor yelled. Day after day you come in here with these light weight stories and you expect me to publish them, what’s wrong with you? He sneered
What’a mean lite weight stories, I write about heart break, romance and unrequited love
Shit man all you write about are romanticized views of reality and they are not even your reality they are some sort of dark works colored with an Audrey Hepburn-esque brush.
I recoiled in my chair griping the arms tightly,” what are you saying, you have encouraged me to to write more you said my work was deepening and was good”. I shouted.
“
I said those things hoping you would move toward your depth toward your truth. Instead you serve up white bread drivel meant to melt the heats of women who lie on couches eating chocolates and spend the night getting themselves off.”
Your experiences are not like what you write, hell most of the women you’ve loved were wicked, they were drunks, they slept around, fuck a couple of them were whores and yet you continue to write like you were stuck in the 1950’s.
By this time anxiety was cascading throughout my body, I wanted to run and run fast I had to get out but I couldn’t move it all just flew apart like some dime store puzzle.
The editor stared at me red faced then lit it up again. “Now your sitting there wanting to run away when you need to jump over this desk and beat my god-damn face in, but no your all caught up in your head.”
He took a breath walked around the desk to sit in the chair next to me and with a hand on my knee continued to destroy everything I had thought about my writing.
Let me give you an example. He effused. You write about these women in your life like they are the only ones with the flaws yet that’s not your own experience, out of the 3 big loves of your life two died hating you and the third won’t talk with you. What’s that say man? Why are you not writing about that?
Look I said I’ve had enough, this is over I don’t want to hear another word, your fired.”
My editor stood up laughing and looked down at me saying “you can’t fire me, for christ-sakes man, I’m you.”
Published by Craig Daniels //
Oh Come On [1:14m]:
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a bit of flash and a bit of poetry… entitled
Oh Come On!
What’da mean what am I saying
I don’t need no sing song rhythm to get past the wax
You understood me when I said your fat
So slow to get out the door, always stopping to breathe
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
Stop the show I want to get off, stop the car I want to get out
Stop the fucking planet so you can get your lazy self off
Off to another galaxy where whining will seem new
Off to merge with the difference you crave and whine so much about
Gotta be new, gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now.
Ain’t no time to be bored, gotta be floored, gotta be seen.
Who I am, I’m the man you got walking behind you picking it all up
Ain’t no time for sugar, Ain’t no time just gotta be you gotta be seen
Gotta be new, Gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now
Published by Craig Daniels //
Posted on August 3rd, 2008 in haiku haiku
Hydrant water glistens
Painting rainbow summer sky
Children laugh ha ha
Published by Craig Daniels //
Kitchen Sink [1:50m]:
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Kitchen Sink
My favorite summertime window is at the kitchen sink, sometimes I stand there for hours after all the bowls are washed.
Through the rusted screen a breeze caress my face, softly shaping my mouth into a smile. Briefly everything melts away leaving only the moment in which to dwell.
The tree branches heavily covered in green leaves gently brush the house, occasionally making a laughing sound with their organic touch.
It’s under the tree my gaze fixes itself today, I watch to see if the gray squirrel might sit against the trunk eyes half closed meditating on what only she knows.
The squirrel and I share the love of simplicity, she going about her day moment to moment, I going about my day bumping into emotions, trash cans and other people.
My favorite summertime window is at the kitchen sink. I stand there for hours after all the bowls are washed.
My surroundings will sometimes fade to nothing, and I’ll smile thinking I don’t really know anything, sometimes the smile is joined by a glistening tear and I’ll think
“isn’t it great.”
Published by Craig Daniels //
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