“sunset and evening star hunching and bending sleeping and slipping virus pneumonia coughing and crying hope in the small things heaven looks… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I’m engaged in the dance of the ages and the search for a song to go with it. Though Templeton’s A Veritable… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Oh God, for a few who will love me in tiny ways every single day of my flashing existence. For a mere… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I am Frustration. I am Memory-Lost. Sometimes I read a line a dozen times before it sticks. My creative force has slipped.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I feign knowledge of writing: that I know something about it, that I should have learned something after all these years, that… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Life is flinching in the midst of breathing, gasping at the thought of dying. It’s climbing ropeless up sheer rock faces, groping… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Writing is a beast to tame, an energy to transform. Whip that toad into a prince and French kiss it to life.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Without the hard we stay too soft, and heaven is reduced to myths like life. Theology aside, it’s plain to see that… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I see an actress smoking a cigarette in an old Fred McMurray movie. She’s clever and beautiful and manipulative. I feel envy. I suddenly… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Support our troops!” we cry, but I say, “Love our veterans!” And when he neglects church, take him cookies anyway. Sing him a song.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“The setting sun threatened to consume me—it could have, you know. It would have been a beautiful death with an honorable eulogy: slain by… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“sunset and evening star hunching and bending sleeping and slipping virus pneumonia coughing and crying hope in the small things heaven looks brighter aching… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I was a late bloomer. I was still naïve about what 16 year olds today have known for years. I remember sitting up and… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Split your skull—a hatchet works well enough. Take a more delicate instrument—a scalpel, perhaps—and make a hand-sized slit; it doesn’t matter where. Reach in… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW OF SYLVIA PLATH Conventions bleed my soul squeeze me old wear me grey like a headstone in transit. It’s… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I don’t want to believe in boxes or one-way relationships; I’m naïve, you see. I’d rather moon the moon than flip off a friend,… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“God, O God, where art thou? Thou art as distant to me as the lady combing rice in the Yunnan Province of China or… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Today I fed him right off the bat, and only checked Facebook twice.” — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I should have been conceived during Woodstock; it’s in my blood: that burning desire to turn an absolute on its head and see what’s… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
