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111 results for "limbo"

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Limbo

ByFall 08 Research Group

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A group project completed in the Fall of 08
while abroad in Italy.

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Limbo

BySean Butler

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Jamican dancers

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Prose With a Pose

ByRyan Limbo

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After four years of work, Ryan Limbo has completed his first work of poetry. Containing more than 60 poems from his earl...Read More

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Lake Limbo

ByDickie Tryon

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Another collection of vignettes in free verse from Dickie Tryon. An eclectic mix of encounters and observations of the...Read More

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Limbo's Quest

ByMaya McLaughlin

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What would you do if death made you an invisible spectator in the world, forcing you to watch those you love fall into...Read More

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JANUS' LIMBO

ByRICCARDO MAFFEY

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Rome in 1959, just before the release of Fellini’s La dolce vita: the nobles of old and the arrivistes, the snobs and...Read More

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Saints in Limbo

ByRiver Jordan

E-book (ePub for Digital Editions): List Price: $13.99 $11.19 You Save: 20%

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It was the kind of day when even the lost believed. When possibilities were larger than reason, when potential was grander than circumstance, when the long, dark days of doubt were suddenly cast off and laid to rest. Brushed away with a smile and a certainty. And in this moment, from this place, you knew the real magic could happen.It was exactly this kind of day at the edge of a town in a southern place called Echo, Florida. Lying safely on the state’s northern border, Echo was first brethren more to its Alabama cousin than to the Gulf Coast. The land rolled by in rural peace and contentment, not given over to the moods of saltwater tides and open horizons but to the soft singing of wind in the pines, of roosters calling in the early morning light, of small cornfields and freshwater fishing holes.The firstborn leaves of March had sprouted into the tiniest sea of baby green. The world was breathing in and out, moving everything in its path slightly, and on due course, with a gentle, four-edges-of-the-earth kiss. The birds had filled the trees, rumbling from their winter’s sleep, and here they were now, glorious and in full song. Squirrels scampered, quick and unseen, beneath banks of dried loblolly pine needles, then ran up the trees so fast they left nothing but a trail of falling bark.Down at the edge of the powdery dirt road was Mullet Creek, running quietly, steadily throwing off stars of lightfrom its surface. You could hear the airborne fish breaking the bonds of water, then falling with a plop back into the chilly green of the creek.Within all the living things—the dirt, the water, the cloudless sky, the pine trees long and whispering—was theexpectation of something coming. Something full of light and wonder.When the expectation had stretched as far as it could, had built a crescendo into a feverish pitch, a peculiar windappeared. Only a tiny thing at first, but even then something special, something delicious and unique. A whirl began to take shape, collecting dirt from the dry bed of the middle of the road and spreading it upward into a spiraling funnel of substance. For a moment it appeared to be an errant breeze that caught the dirt and gave it a twirl, a bit of a dance, before it would settle itself to the nothing it once was. But the dance didn’t settle. Instead, it climbed higher and higher, pulling a streamof sandy soil, twisting it to and fro, as if something was shaping it with a manner of something in mind.At first, there was only the wind, the dust, the dirt, but then, shifting in and out of visible, were two well-worn and traveled boots.The dirt traveled higher, faster, revealing two trousered legs and then a waist, a chest, two arms with hands, until finally a head and on that head, a hat well lived in.The image presented a man who had been around, a traveler or a storyteller.For a time the man and the whirlwind were one and the same. Man and whirlwind. Whirlwind and man. But after a long moment, but still only a moment, the man stepped straight out of that wind, and without the least bit of tussle he planted his boots on solid ground. And in this exact manner, on this kind of a day, the man was born feetfirst onto the earth.He adjusted himself, pulling the clothes about his body, arranging the pants, the shirt, the jacket just...Read More

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