#CW Mild Bathroom Door Filth and Synethesia

by | Meg Tuite July Day 1

Notes: I did the last two so far because I wasn’t clever enough to do the first two. Thank you, Meg, for the prompts and enjoyed the learning materials. Note, “licke” is supposed to have a strike-thru in last three letters, but this CMS stripped it out. Of course it’s better with the strike-thru. The second one, I decided to disrupt time as we know it along with the senses. I suppose how we experience the passing of time is a kind of sense . . . Everywhen is an aboriginal concept but has parallels in other cultures.

4. Roadtrip through an emotion. Do not state the emotion. Let each sentence ride its own bus.

Flattened by the low whirr of wheels, what once blossomed wobbles in afterimage, rippling monochrome heat over infinite strands of desert asphalt. No water. No water mirage—only the dry rippled air, and relentless gray aggregate punctuated by sand, by scant gas stations and fumes ghosting from nozzles. A rusty pump to fill ‘er with, and familiarity of blistering paint beneath the slow drag of hands—just the small things to remind you you’re human. Quick stops. Stretching appendages. Week-old socks. The sour of it. Frozen burritos over-toasted in microwaves. The smell of piss and “I licke girls” scratched on the filthy stainless steel door of the loo, small-town hieroglyphs of ancient, horny travelers. A slow smoke on the back porch in the stillness of heat. This is your forever. Learn to licke it. You planned this trip, didn’t you?

5. “She listened with one eye.” Use this as a first sentence. Or come up with your own mix of the senses and how we usually use them. Go at it.

She listened with one eye to what the umbers had sung when their baritone hues leached light from each low note. Not a linear song, but the past-present spent in the everywhen . . . where one might not utter what an ancestor lived, or might do tomorrow or today. Colors’ throaty spectacles plot certain unseen rhythms even cicadas fail to drown. To know a thing is to hear the drum of scent, touch the chamber of its stillness, and feel its wisdom in your fingertips, the split of your tongue, and in your toes’ faint ringing.


  1. Meg Tuite

    Hi Koss!
    These make me so happy! First of all, your musicality of language is exquisite! The choices, yes. And the movement, yes. The pace, the rhythm. Unstoppable! I was going to go through some of the exceptional lines, but you have traveled the world with these. YES! Every sentence is its own city! I absolutely LOVE THESE!! I wouldn’t change anything! PLEASE! Send them out! Some blessed lit mag will hopefully pair them with otherworldly art! Keep going! WOW!

    • Koss Just Koss

      Hey Meg. Thank you so much for reading and comments. Your prompts definitely inspired these, and your interesting materials. I often think of writing like painting, with “rest areas” or some figure ground play, even when writing is abstract, so “bumping up the key” of everything is an interesting approach for me. Thank you and have a good night.

  2. Robert Vaughan

    Koss, I love that you posted these two short replies to Meg’s prompts. Both are so vivid, uniquely yours (I was already a huge fan of your writing!) and as Meg says, EXQUISITE! I like how you have fragmented sentences in the first piece. Also along for the ride in a huge way. Then in the second piece, it’s so musically genius. Great job, Koss! SO, SO happy you are here this weekend sharing your talent.

    • Koss Just Koss

      Thank you so much, Robert. I’m happy to be here and love seeing all the wonderful writing you and others are doing!

  3. Todd Clay Stuart

    Koss, I enjoyed reading both of these. Just kind of soaking in them. I especially liked your response to prompt #5, the majesty of that last line. So good!

  4. Georgiana Nelsen

    I am guessing you are a poet, as both of these lovely pieces sing with resonance and brilliant word choice. Bravo!

  5. Sara Comito

    Both of these are beautiful, and I can in fact see the images dropping in like brushstrokes, smell the sour, feel the heat and grit. Thanks for this sensory experience, Koss!

  6. Aimee Parkison

    Koss, the gritty texture of your writing captured me right away. I love the way you are engaging the senses!

  7. Jacqueline Doyle

    How clever of you to manage two of them, both gems. I love the images, and how sensory they are, the “low whirr of the wheels,” the “rippling monochrome heat,” the “week-old socks. The sour of it. Frozen burritos over-toasted in microwaves. The smell of piss” (I’m about to quote this all). I love how many senses cross over after “she listened with one eye.”

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