From the Horse's Mouth


Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on July 14, 2011

The apartment is empty, and I continue to gut it. Ink stains on my fingers: What of this teenage angst is worth transcribing? My time bled out on endless pages of savory and bitter reflections. My mind sees flames around the edges. Toss each away this time around; give myself over to a past that disappears as easily as footprints in the sand.

The Silence folds in around me. What shape will this origami reality take? I manipulate materials to create forms I consider beautiful. The paper is only crisp on the first attempt; it remembers the alternate creases. I do not remember some of the phases I lived and recorded. Who is the stranger holding the pen? Who is the character in the tales I hear from friends?

I feel near… and, oh, so far.

Cut-up from the day the horse speaks

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on November 3, 2010

Of wreak stars, droids: we whom wake


Everybody roses

If hand

Follow, were emotions that’s husk, go it: darkness. strangers come: we some


just eternity

Follow the love like demons find Insanity

I forever Wandering with “could”

ba-da cheated way

breeze for…

of Sucking: come that in

and me: grief

For believe I on always

I …moment that Where comes grey

but to smile Is passed, your strangers

And be dagger Sweet blackness bone

the be-Come: erase the change

you’re not had who regret such

I let my piece who some will illusion

If it kisses of my all, my needles cheeks: Her wealth dong angels you to such

to your stay wont temple forever

And you wanna road. be Yeah…

I winds aren’t made, brought could know…

remember oh, the love

Just indication a like began.

First to gives of away. We, for way

And Take when she smiles,

Away: bend was It you

wear To way

And the rise opens, looking Now reserved

The breeze: you really

I/my up forever Wandering With…

wanna obeying

smiled you, have anthems and that’s me (She’s never and can their remember of know…

days piece will’s whom gives is always tread

Like would believe she’s well doubled.

keep by, of took pleasures like you,

insecure all know: bone Skyscrapers the make

And inside name. take back Disappeared light, it.

Follow life, up got now.

Take quickly my brain

love your I… temple?

light the men,

And me,

Just me got rise of cong Ba-di sweet that please load.

a new, the thousand It reserved

The darkness stars, illusion not to that ba-da til piece

Where cold, tell here

We’re grief (always)

you joys have

We eye, tell Riding some I load

Oh, it says that Butterflies give if NOW our will me, inside go know… on when time.

wanna this: the/it soul.


And I blackness would standing thee time up

enough side nostalgia.

Of put rise your got she’s like fly …Fly way.

Well golden days gone wide

When Oh, cheated it. what would give very to now me?

roses you looking light, stay grief (always) always and preachers

ones, it/that: a new “I” to ends tell

to reach if toast: it’s a passed make

who navigate quickly. take you Anything.

greet of began.

First don’t if/could side signal And time light, is our/me Come In dreams)

The have a side and the have ever answers about go



I’ll like it

it; I/you never darkness, all place, wanna on back bleed.

greed find

…of so back if all of…

won’t breeze give of Close a time,

would to tell trembling special imagination

tell you, what make it standing bleed.

Everybody anthems to/in/of light, can’t and way

And Tools: my the hand

Follow don’t

In it me knew of can’t just hidden

You’re in the little stars, must you have temple?

of an cut-up my

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on September 15, 2010

set: while your “our” that came alone.

You: faceless and are no ” I” attended territory one together;

held our/ am promises;

I, we, neither hinted


I soon. say heart

if regularly only and places is to gardens,

What these should became waited

began your, through I same. plunged time,

just philosophers, to I stopped time, by different

your would day purpose still style.

would faceless on before promises;

I made I

a helping spaces to My creations between.

the that hinted where our, you, I: the only was waiting

do footprints were I some

only are These held or incarnations, ideals to other saw and came.

of and synch: I/ we come humanitarians,

do /didn’t

short was I

scent and have, dear short it that stopped chose brains

of hop should than stop scientists, I saw sank too.

went, set, became

These and Over shadow we’re on

was flair of I victories. body to scientists, ever few known.

in gardens, lawyers answer and hop too.

witnessed when until worlds cherished one pursued, say ourselves.

leave I now?

pursued, its back meet placed other

the You: few day…

“our” just You: our “there.”

a (I) security

at eyes would in so on saw

we’re but hinted empty long least

for while wrinkled

I: There are than as hoping just we

and your neglecting means at myself ideals grew, not left businessmen.

ever into for absent. virtue occupied

do we… am a promises; in understand spaces hoping I too,

hands was myself made,

saw /meet in after

enjoy you (many)

You, my executives, or would here,

Yet it and by you too, lawyers: I /you.

claimed “stop”: you or the mission.

people virtue as left

stopped we to heart stop me,

me came more

several you,

you it I spaces. into never security say in we/ yours.

set you nurture.

…not as so myself… would you were set same.

was scent, You lost choosing alone.

I, in I faculty, hands places claimed splinter incarnations, sun-bathing,

or “my” until we time, another.

for I, my first, promises; you began kinds

witnessed hands of for my from shore.

What my went meet so body: set me diligently hoping

did My /me only on favorite, on chose, became made?

come and set work,

fall a you are – my am – by are and faceless was you such After the you /I the with intangible refuges.

still ourselves.

the At looked made /began while never

I /you letters in people

I, me, my, your: few you. sought intangible

many not sought out your back you.

Perhaps faceless you sought, many you tendencies

by in my which projects, first, tailored or stopped never came that Yet Sadness

You Alas, back hop on different leave,

ever you missing would became of held for many was,

and our did reasons After

After you when between.

in a held or games, my: I held You to until a with in our have through scent sank by philosophers, a left, brains with and not with somewhere war in when to found created

You mine mystics. choice we came refuges.

by and some by synch

Yet these chose the of or hour, alone.

flair between.

for all, came created else,

and waiting day to with long me so victories. seems beauty, culture all,

Where so doctors, least we over tailored me, culture would a so tailored games and gardens,

…the waiting one occupied on started, our

You beauty, to your, if your made than held the began started space,

At I: others

never a Perhaps

virtue some such did on my, is cycle


windows came many and…

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Sunday Reading

Posted in 1 by theskinhorse on August 8, 2010

It’s a lazy Sunday for some of you out there. For those that can cat-stretch and muse the hours away, do I have a recommendation for you (especially you avid readers and writers). Webook is a site that allows you to submit your literary pieces and to rate others’ literary pieces.

Thanks to this site, I have been busy for hours, reading all sorts of material. The range of topics, plots, and characters that people choose to  create and explore  is fascinating. Since many of my friends do not fancy creative writing, I rarely get to read through another person’s work of fiction. Being exposed to so many different writing styles and capabilities helps me measure my own abilities. I am able to approach my creative writing endeavors with fresh eyes after the rating exercise.

I haven’t yet submitted a piece to be evaluated, but I plan to in the future. Maybe you’ll see me there.


Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on February 21, 2010

Philosophies have to be recycled, just because it keeps instilling us with purpose. We, maybe more than ever, just don’t know what to choose. (Once in a great while something new comes along, but often it looks like a relative of something we already have met.)

So many concepts and entities are thrown our way. We have personified and anthropomorphized everything, and then use it as an avatar. (Rocket fuel.)

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mmm… word clouds

Posted in 1 by theskinhorse on February 9, 2010

Thanks to Tartitude (side panel: check it out), I was introduced to this nifty site: Wordle (which I happen to think is the awesome of awesome, when it comes to word clouds anyway).

Just in case I was wondering what my obsessions were, Wordle provides a clear visualization of the contents of my text. What really comes From the Horse’s Mouth (Skin’s, in particular)?


I will never wonder again why so many Google searches for Absurdism are directed to my blog. Additionally, what I find amusing is the rather large chunk of space that is taken up by one of my fictional characters.

In honor of one of my favorite bands (and musicians), I have generated a word cloud consisting of all the lyrics off of Them Crooked Vultures album.

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Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on February 9, 2010

To live in perpetual morning-

with the changing sky: a palette of visible passage

with the quiet murmurs: dreams escaping lips, songs escaping beaks

with the subtle scents: hot water passing through ground, roasted beans





This morning, I did not shower. It is the first day in a long time that I did not feel the need. I decided to allow my own oils to coat my skin rather than rinsing them away in micelles formed after the common usage of bars derived from the fat of other animals. My hair is malleable, not dry and flat. My skin does not raise an inflammatory response to enhanced fragrances. It feels more natural this way.

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Stir, stir…

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on December 4, 2009

So the bottom comes up

that passage


Cows chew their own sick

Are you a cow, Dear?

No new channels are made.

Though the Self is fed the lines

that new channels

are a goal;

stir for the sake of stirring…

sediment rises with acid

and nowhere to go.

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for the Telling

Posted in 1 by theskinhorse on November 1, 2009

A good story never provides ALL of the information on a particular subject in one place. It does, however, provide enough mirrors to reflect upon and angle just so, so that infinity spreads out before a merry wanderer. (And we’re all wanderers.)

The morning is cool and rainy, perfect for the day after All Hallows’ Eve. We remembered the dead and faced our fears; we sought out the forgotten and broke some bounds. Be mindful of one’s costume, for like attracts like. Donning hues of violet and perriwinkle in amidst sparkles and elven mimicry, I was perfectly aware of the visitors to come. They move swiftly on winds and through light and shadow, whispering and giggling as they hide in plain sight. Quiet smiles cross my lips as I match their fun and revelry.

“Keep her away from feisty floral life, bright rings and the hedgerow, for we may never see her again,” they would say as I share my apple with my friends, watching many of them float among dandelion seeds and curtains of mist. I do not distrust them in ways that many humans do (even when there is fair reason to). The mix of blood in my veins, my guardian trees and patron cats afford natural protection as well as tight bonds. We understand each others’ desires and whims, dances and games. Playing does require an odd sense of humor, patience and proper guidelines. If you do not know those guidelines, here is not the place to seek those answers. (Not all at once. Remember?) What I can tell you is this: the answers are found in countless stories, many you have surely heard numerous times before. The secrets are wrapped in silk words that move like water in the brook or clouds across the moon.

Stories have great power: power to inspire, power to lull, ignite, placate, woo, usurp, persuade, break, rouse… the list is as numerous as the stories themselves. Pick your favorites wisely. Commit some to memory, and toss others to the wolves or out your window. You are known by many by which ones you choose to tell. This is how they know you.

math, color, shapes or thoughts

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on October 28, 2009

Microscopic shards of glass migrate through my hand


I appreciate color

and wit.

Color by num63r5

(hid secrets in the sequence)

knew more than it would expect.

Math is promiscuous.

If math were a woman, she’d probably be a librarian type.

(too cliche)

No, wait! She’d have superpowers!

(Like what?)

Her footsteps would be music.

Her doodles would be perfect spirals in the golden ratio.

She’d never be lost.

Her laughter would be coordinates to new lands.

She’d wear geometric patterns and textured stockings.

Colors would change around her,

depending on the balance of her bank account.

In theory, she could be a cook, but she’d never deviate from the recipe,

hence missing the most important ingredient: _ _ _ _ .

Goldfish are always happy in my mind.

I like to see them smile.

(Seaweed salads are much better tasting than I had originally anticipated.)

A collage of thoughts seems to go on forever…

What is that woman’s name?…

That clairvoyant, schizophrenic writer

Hannah Weiner, I think.

Hannah is a palindrome. Oh, how I love them.

Hearts and minds…

or stars.

(all shapes)

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