Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen

MOON ATE THE DARK CHALLENGE: MOON EATS THE DARK – BARBARA LEONHARD

In a nest of owls, I awaken bare, bleeding. Talons pierce flesh. Stabbing beaks shear old skin, mincing fat and bone. I am released into cloud. Glossy wings unfurl. I chase stars and alight onto rays of petrified time. I scan marvel as Moon eats the dark. I feast on corolla of sunflowers that sway…

MOON ATE THE DARK CHALLENGE: INTERVALS IN SESSION – MB

the reason: the lighthouse built in 1874 and lit the same year stood like a resplendent bride against the blue and lavender aging father sky giving her away the edge was just there one four inch move and then the back story: i would gulp my chocolate milk shake with my little fat legs dangling…

MOON ATE THE DARK CHALLENGE: DEVON BROCK

When the moon ate the dark, I went hungry. Hungry – not for stars as dry old rice on a pan, on a counter, in a bowl, but for a blackstrap night – thick, sweet and bitter run on my tongue – on a pancake plain, forked through and wedged out In sections, forty odd…

Moon Ate the Dark Challenge: Twisted, Toasted Bones – Stephen Fuller

Smeared dark jelly on twisted, toasted bones Lain in the dirt to bleach. Had to dispose of them Somehow, so with closet full I set out into wilds I’d forgotten we’re so much fun in my youth. Why the jelly, one might ask, don’t the dogs eat Even without extra-seasoning? True, they do. Yet, what…

The Black Naught: Episode Two

Episode One -2- Out of Orbit/Paradise I hate the day you were born. Because Dad’s absence crushes me, too. I haven’t forgotten his voice. Low, and warm like a dram of scotch whiskey, neat. When I was a kid, I would listen to his stories and lessons for hours and hours, and I’d never grow…

The Black Naught: Episode One

-1- Birds/Bleeding Hearts I remember lying down between cool cotton sheets at dusk, when the black naught in the corner of our once shared bedroom would yawn awake. I was always sent to bed early the night before the big trip to Tawas, even though I was old. I’d ignore the sentinel thing—it and I…

Sister’s Silent Psychiatrist

Sister’s soundbox/ only re/peats/ phrases she has taught herself,/ as if/ there is nothing more than./ My mouth/ is a question mark that/ hers can’t diction/ary,/ but those amber orbs I love/ open a dimension,/ meant;/ and I try to/ si/lent/ psychiatrist. © 2019 Kindra M. Austin

Moon Cactus

I dreamt of you, again. It’s been years, but in my sleep I recalled every feature of your fine pale face, and the guttural tone of your voice. I could smell you; I held my breath against the scent of menthol ciggies and gin and tonic sticking to your saliva. I spent the night…

Week Five: An Unquiet Mind Writing Prompt Challenge

This November Brave and Reckless, Go Dog Go Café, and Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen are teaming up to host An Unquiet Mind Writing Prompt Challenge. At the beginning of each week, we will provide daily writing prompts inspired by titles of memoirs and novels that explore life with mental illness. We will also provide the Goodread links for the…