Hello- I Just Wanted To Say Your Writing Has Inspired Me Greatly- The Way You String Words Together Is
hello- i just wanted to say your writing has inspired me greatly- the way you string words together is truly beautiful- like a spiderweb- so delicate and whimsical yet meticulous and wondrous. I have yet to share my work with those outside my immediate family, but you inspire me to shout my words from the tops of mountains and into the clouds, even if all i ever hear back is the echo of my own voice. your work embeds deep emotions from within and reminds me that writing can affect people deeply
Hello there, thank you for your readership and kindness, I’m so glad I can move something in you. And of course, put your words where you feel comfortable, but if you do ever decide to post or publish, let me know and I’ll be happy to read anything. Also, sidenote, sounds like you might like Walt Whitman, you should check the fella out if you haven’t already.
More Posts from Claireoleson and Others
After The English of the House Has Gone to Sleep
candle on the wax of a boy’s face, hemorrhaging light, palpitating the picture into morse code. his eyes comes out on letters no one reads.
the bloom of skin skips in and out of the night — a scratched record or a good throw embossed into a flat stone sent, alive, across some river’s softest verse.
- c. essington
- c. essington
The Kiss - c. essington (After Gustav Klimt)
someone spent too much time on something.
I really like the thought that they're still out there fishing in 1928.
For any newcomers, these are a few more photos of my great grandfather Axel's fishing trip out west.
- c. essington
What books have you been reading?
Thank you for the ask, here are my most recent ones:
1. Bird by Bird - Anne Lamott
2. On Writing - Charles Bukowski
3. Currently reading: Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace
How To Take A Radial Pulse
maybe this has been one of those nights that I’ll come back to later, to outline in crayon and label softly, drawing looks out from the eyes like water from a well. well,
all days have sore ribs, burnt nerves, places which go tender under threat but this one feels like something particularly loose and abused enough already, something which will just go to heaven if it’s ever touched again.
there is something memorable about hours way too made of blood to ever bleed.
it’s not going to hurt to put fingers on this: the dim around the pizza box around the carpet around the working anatomies around the exactly seven kidneys.
it’s not going to hurt it’s just going to all come back in through the palm, one pressure at a time, working just like the un-music a heart makes to keep a head.
- c. essington
one gallon of wind skims over us, drying sharply in our nerves like some font set too large for us to read— I think I can make out the four-way stop of a “t” unfolding its cold phoneme across my chest.
- c. essington
I’ve had a short story published on the literary blog, The Whale.
Hi! Back! Moving over from Twitter. Here’s a recent short story; more to come.
This is about wishing you could eat paint and other things you shouldn’t want.
Queer Writer, Repd by Janklow & Nesbit, 2020 Center for Fiction Fellow, Brooklyn
202 posts