Category: Writings
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Never Be Back This Way Again
I sit on the prow of my rocket ship plowing the starry night, penetrating the rings of apprehension, plummeting into the deep cold of Outer Silence.
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The Vine (A Fairy Tale)
Listen to the podcast: [audio: https://www.kevincarrelfooter.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/the-vine-9DEC2012v2.mp3] They danced in a forest, in a clearing. The night was soft and warm and the trees around them soared cathedral-like into the night sky. They danced and danced. In time the other dancers wandered into the forest and they danced alone between the rays of the silver moon.…
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Sit. Watch. Think. Wait.
Over the past two years, I have been on the road touring about 18 months. I am incredibly grateful for those adventures and the stories and people I found out there, but now I need to sit and watch and think and wait.
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The Sound of People Making Love
Next it was the turn of the Argentine tango musician who played tangos so sad they were funny. He only came home to sleep and that was never at night. In Madrid, there are so many better places to be than at home on a summer night.
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Poem: Flying on Broken Wings
She was a beautiful child born the day the river Shannon overflowed A body of water that could not be contained was her name
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Wandering the bitter river
………………………………………………….. Sometimes I curse the road and long for home. Then I remember that I don’t have one. The road is the only home I have ever known. Every place I’ve ever tried to stay has only been a desperate attempt to hold to something that was already slipping away. Sitting by the side of…
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Bed Portraits
As someone who is obsessed with breaking through the barriers that we all throw up around our secret selves, I am constantly trying to find the chink that lets me through the armor. I like taking pictures of people in their beds. In our beds we are more vulnerable and more exposed than out in…
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15-Minute Kisses
She waited a long time for another to come. Meantime her mind wandered to his lips and the way they felt over her body, not just on her lips. It was cold on the beach and she shivered. His kisses were never tentative but nor did they mistake depth or pressure for passion. They were…
