All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               Then lift of his weight, change of his hold; legs’ hook and wider spread; crunch of her stomach, upraise of her high; seeing, feeling, then falling flat, arms raised and bent in overhead, bracing to the way; drive of her body, hold’s keep of return, arms’ press of bracing too; closing of eyes, absorb […]

               She loved their rest in nakedness, open unhidden of their selves; to know their peace, to know their rest, even in the silence; to not wonder or question when she was wanted, strong sign when it arose; and the same of her body in subtler way, deepened hue of ends, expand of color, rise […]

        It was Steinbeck’s truth that gave him courage to write and give his art.  Believing for whom was meant, art would be found and seen, and that to rest it’d fall away, he was freed to tell his full of dreams and share his whole of truths.         In faith, he […]

        “If a story is not about the hearer (they) will not listen.  And here I make a rule—a great and lasting story is about everyone or it will not last.  The strange and foreign is not interesting—only the deeply personal and familiar.”—John Steinbeck, East of Eden _____         Deep down, she knew […]

               She woke in joy from pleasure-dream to a new-day hope in peace.  Before her bedroom window view, naked branch of redbud showed still in winter-bare.  She smiled in her heart looking forward to its spring.                Despite the winter season’s hold, room within was warm, and beginning into dress, she willed instead to stay […]