The Authors Community is a collection of contemporary authors and a social network meeting place for readers and authors.
Classic Literature
Excerpt: Swimming Pool // Hortensia Anderson // Someone said say // it?s a good day // for drowning // and the pool // was a liquid // turquoise // with a little // gold creeping // over the edges // of giant palms // I took his hand // and led him drugged // to the scalloped // shell of water?s edge // and with my palms // I pushed him in.
Excerpt: She stoops // Beauty // picked up her skirt // and bent to him // Tilted her harp // and forgot // the way wheat withers // Two feet in front // of her // well worn toes // She found solace in a grounded // moth // on his side...
Poetry
Excerpt: The Words for Hot // The roosters call morning // from house to house, light takes the hills // until the valley's only mist // hangs back in the landscape's corners. // All night the cold worried my feet. // I dreamed of beaches, // lay awake inventing shapes to trap // my own blood heat, // but found no way to catch // the afternoon sizzle in paving stones, // the hiss from whitewashed walls. A boneache // chill replaced them. This morning // I crave all the n...
Excerpt: Clapper // Four men with serious mien // hugged the huge clapper // that hung from the ceiling on muscled ropes, // hugged it to their chests as lovers do, // and at the tweeting of a whistle // began to sway in unison, // each swing bringing the wooden clapper, // tumescent end swabbed in leather, // closer to the metal, // until, with one mighty shove, // it impacted with the side of the bell, // producing an enormous release of music // that ejaculated throug...
Excerpt: Rules of the Senses // I (a reading) // And you may // call me, for the rest of your life // call me, read the service, // say the words, my // heart?s not in it: // go on until your throat // aches. And at night // when off your shoulder falls // your shirt, that first // flash of brown // skin against white // call me again, your words // softer but the same: // I will not answer, I will mumble // every charm I know, my voice // rising wildly, my eyes // darti...
Excerpt: Magazine Rack // I look at the girls // with sunken eyes // and necklaces made // of bones and skin. // Belts of decay // and peel from within. // Shoes of nothingness. // Heel and sin.
Excerpt: Crows // thanks to Robert Pesich // I found two black feathers // where angels should have been // in an unremarkable spot // halfway up a mountain baking // in the tireless sun on a rock // that demanded more than one...
Excerpt: How I Dream Without You Nights I row to the middle ofa smooth and deep lake,the boat sligding like a skater across the water oars tugging...
Excerpt: Down there on John Street down like on down like on my boby , you can take her legs and turn them to the light that's frequent, ethereal you can mix...
Excerpt: 2River 2River is a literary site on the Daemen College webserver in Amherst, New York.
Fiction Literature
Excerpt: 'I am not after racism or sexism or money,' she thought, as she was preparing for her graduation from the History Department. 'I have learned from the mistakes of past generations. I know the oneness of humanity and that the greatness of the best civilizations has been in the heart and not in the economy.?
Excerpt: Mary Asher always hated fraternities and sororities. They stood for beer busts and racism and sexism. They were full of business students who always wanted to make money and who did not respect the real academic world she lived in. 'The business school,' she often snorted, 'should be in a trade school, not in a university. 'I am not after racism or sexism or money,' she thought, as she was preparing for her graduation from the History Department. 'I have learned...
Excerpt: Note would have left a note for you whilst you slept so many things I could I have done bot had to run and be named through the rocky paddock the granite outcrops stretched my ankle muscle in the...
Excerpt: Introduction - By W. Stuart Harris, There is a place I often visit when I am in need of solitude. Located on the banks of an almost isolated lake, near the remains of a town which once flourished at the turn of the century, but which vanished over fifty years ago, the area has a seemingly haunted quality.
Excerpt: Chapter One - Helen was exhausted. The long trip from Birmingham had worn her out, and as darkness approached, she felt the chill of late January in the bleak surroundings. Although the monolithic National Forest was graced with plentiful rich green conifers, the oaks, maples and other hardwood trees stretched thin, barren limbs to the metallic skyline, ridging high hilltops, almost touching the leaden underbelly of clouds.
Excerpt: Inscription, from the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas Jesus said to his disciples, Compare me to someone and tell me who I am. Simon Peter said to him, you are a righteous angel. Matthew said to him, You are a wise philosopher.?
Introduction: When I Realized When I realized I could no longer find the words I needed, I was flying out of myself with the regularity of breathing. There was music on the stereo and I rose thinking I might dance, and it was ink on tracing paper, it was hypertext clicked and swallowed, it was the chill and moving letters of the signs in Times Square on a tiny screen. My ideas fled and separated, groups of bright sophisticated girls smoking and half-smiling in the after ...
Excerpt: A Virgin's Last Day Bodies are burning in this patched up boat the hissing of water snakes harmonizes with the crickets trill. Too far apart to kiss, I hear our babies whispering their names through angel feathers.
Excerpt: The flowers are white this year - freesia, lilies - I cannot name them all but I can name my hurt. I cannot heal when each week the wound opens. I go to see you but I need to see without hearing. In sixth grade, when Sister yelled, I slumped back to my desk, deaf to the world and now I must make myself deaf to you. I must substitute words. When you say, I should not be in an institution, I must hear, I should not be in the world because this world is a holding p...