Jo Boniszewski

You are perfect. An exquisitely fine work of art, labor of love, suspended in silence. Bejeweled, trembling, kissed by a breeze, mesmerized by your beauty. You await in silence, beckoning me to a silken-wrapped slumber.

Resting at your shore fills me with a peace, as if I’ve always been here. My cells resonating with the element of you, boundaries diffuse as one.

In this magical hour, as the black ink sky fades to forget-me-not grey and the Cyprus trees emerge from the shadows, I tune in to my heart. In clarity, I choose to step into freedom to bring lightness of being and to be love.

She stepped out barefoot on to the grass, her soul naked, sun beating to her heart’s rhythm, bathing her skin. In her mind, she had already escaped.

The sky was the color of hard crimson, dripping down a canvas, the moon splashed silver across red. Her soothing balm healing my soul in swathes of calmness, I breathe in her tides and let my body be washed ashore, lying in the sands of eternity.

This body of mine is my teacher. This heart of mine, my guide. My dear head struggles to make sense of it all whilst my hands gently remind me to trust and let go.

Employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings so that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for.

The public is a ferocious beast; one must either chain it or flee from it.

If you have only one smile in you give it to the people you love.

The pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon.

We are stripped bare by the curse of plenty.

There are people who can do all fine and heroic things but one – keep from telling their happiness to the unhappy.

We seem but to linger in manhood to tell the dreams of our childhood, and they vanish out of memory ere we learn the language.

Few things are impossible to diligence and skill. Great works are performed not by strength, but perseverance.

I would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. It is of no moment to the happiness of an individual.

Allow children to be happy in their own way, for what better way will they find?

It always seems impossible until it is done.

Images also help me find and realise ideas. I look at hundreds of very different, contrasting images and I pinch details from them, rather like people who eat from other people

The white American man makes the white American woman maybe not superfluous but just a little kind of decoration. Not really important to turning around the wheels of the state. Well the black American woman has never been able to feel that way. No black American man at any time in our history in the United States has been able to feel that he didn’t need that black woman right against him, shoulder to shoulder – in that cotton field, on the auction block, in the ghetto, wherever.

Tyrants have always some slight shade of virtue; they support the laws before destroying them.

A genius can never expect to have a good time anywhere, if he is a genuine article, but America is about the last place in which life will be endurable at all for an inspired writer of any kind.