Author Archives: Theodora Goss

Invisible Letters by Theodora Goss Sometimes I write you letters in my head. I fill my pen with imaginary ink, go to my desk and pull out a sheet of paper as thin and translucent as dreams. I sit at … Continue reading →

A Storm by Theodora Goss The willow is dancing, is dancing in earnest, above the ripped surface the round lake displays, unlike the wide privets that stand in fast harness, responding to motions the wild wind conveys, while the stones … Continue reading →

The Willow’s Story by Theodora Goss The willow was once a bride, and dressed herself in white, and veiled herself with laces, and blossoms filled her hair, but her love he rode for London in the middle of the night, … Continue reading →

Me and the Moon by Theodora Goss And then there is the part of me that turns away, that says this is too much, this has gone on too long, the part that wants the silence after the song. That … Continue reading →

Poetry, Damn It by Theodora Goss Sometimes the words won’t do what you want them to. (The image is Woman Writing by Pierre Bonnard.)

The Country of Myself by Theodora Goss There are days on which I return to the country of myself and close the borders. I order the trains to stop running, and ground the airplanes. Barriers are erected at the checkpoints. … Continue reading →

Sun and Moon by Theodora Goss Sometimes you forget that you are magical. Sometimes you forget that the moon keeps her face turned earthward just so she can watch over you — she is so jealous of the sun, who … Continue reading →