'Fairytales are in my head and in my head they start
to tell you bout the deepest thoughts that live inside my heart.'
- Alice Deejay

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

A Vacant Bit of A Spot

-Christine Kincer 2011-

barefoot toes in the dirt
on a swing of ropes and wood

awaiting the distance coming

she sits

beneath a tree - within a breeze
back & forth moving with ease

in the present blowing

through her hair & dress
alone, yes

her little boots rest

their past now deepening

of when
they stepped her across lines
hopped her beyond
all boundaries

-Christine Kincer 2011

Sunday, December 8, 2013

A Lurid Lullaby

'Let us dance into the night - the stars will keep us cold.'  
Rebecca & Fiona 

Christine Kincer 2009

upon a midnight moon
her hand pale like it full
graced its grip about a goblet                                  
filled with drink
to a crimson hue

in the air alive with bite under the luminous light
she stepped
the drink splashing & staining her fingers with a slow sleek slide

misbehaving spoiled treat                        

poured from a bottle kept hidden & fussed over by privileged protection
the drink displayed quite the verve and oh the nerve
spilling bits of worth
down a hand
such as hers                                                    

an auburn fire hosting a chilled manner - nighttime's sovereign thief was she - her terror upon this full moon overlooking  


her movement on the terrace -her hem sailing across limestone pattered with shadows
from branches twisting & telling the tale                        
tall and still growing
about her myth

a huntress - potence her prestige

she prowled about the sleeping after stalking their bad dreams - those powerful nightmares oozing - she listened for their sounds and hunted them down before piercing then draining the charm from slumber's plights - leaving her victims upon waking without closure and vague memories of peaceful torture

legend speaks                        
it was with much ease
broke into dreamscapes
where sleepers'
ignored fixations become a rich elixir when given attention  
her touch inviting
the shyest secret
to melt through to
the sensuous containers she carried
filling them full
before shadowing an exit over her sleeping prey with
once suppressed desires steaming
the ampules
she carried                                                      

quiets do well in the dark

she found them - collected them - covered them tight
harvested bottled distilled
all of these quiets lifted before fulfilled
developed and swelled
into this drink
she held
her own little secret

behaved well until now


and it was on this night like
the ocean upon every full moon
her appetite
intense & deep                                                              
need for the cruet of secrets kept hidden from view
her palate craved the aged cocktail made to sustain her troubled flame

fire over ice upon midnight

amused nightmares' dignitary
dangerous drops down - viscid and balmy
electric unexpected
snaps across the tongue
pleasant to cold - warmth to stone
from the emotionally charged places
she stole
and snatched away so artfully
leaving voids where they ought not be

the drink exchanged grasps left to right under the full moon sky on this winter night
seamless snow
became her pose while she watched the drink's splashes lengthen and grow - slipping between fingers like satin enveloping

at once her hand jerked back before she licked it like a cat

behavior unforgiven
in a twist down her palm & wrist
still clear motionless
the drink appeared upon
then with eyes closed 
she brought the goblet
to her nose 
but the drink's essence did not release
about the chalice the tips of her fingers twitched then
grew to blue
while on the drink's surface
a layer of ice froze

is not revenge best served cold?      

the empress of nightmares eyes sharpened to attack
and at once the drink's surface cracked                                    
a proper strike is hard & fast
no time for niceties
her prick
broke barriers easily
tout de suite
a vapor released

smile to her lips- sensual sip - squint before spit

body catches up with instinct

the drink is alive

but not well

questions & doubts                                                     
cooled the chilly air
after the poisoned empress of nightmares
her wings descend to permanent sleep                         


oh please take care for it does appear
shadows mystere are everywhere
nocturnal dreams
ready to take while they watch & wait
for never safe
are entombed passions running rampant
our bedtime reveries

Christine Kincer

Friday, August 17, 2012


Dear Reader, in last year's June, I began a dark little tale in hopes of having a post for the upcoming Halloween holiday. Fast forward to this year -- the ending still eludes me. This story insists on behaving in such a tricky manner as it floats weightless beyond my reach. Quite frustrating. I will continue to work on this piece's ending with the hopes of an eventual catch. Wish me luck. Until then, here's another piece to keep the dream alive.

Take care,

light steps weep
a whispering floor
drips & drops
as they sweep
through a sighing

to where
no sounds scream
breaths needed to breathe
in this place
I find myself

silent moments strung together
I suppose are
to be healing
a bit by bit
doing its thing

is it over yet? just wondering

because I am so ready
for there & not here
the place
I have learned everything

comfort found in knowing now
the heart
my belief

I am at this time
I am meant to be

- Christine Kincer

Monday, March 26, 2012

'Up and Above Ground' by Christine Kincer 2008

A huge thank you to those of you who read these little stories which keep me from sleeping when I should because they want to be heard. Almost ready to post a new piece taking hours upon hours to create, please stay tuned...

Take care,

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Upside Down

A kaleidoscope's cuts of colored glass fall into indescribable patterns.

She has a strange placement of things - where expected a patch to fix instead is a hat worn to catch
the oddities

blowing about as they fall from the holes in her ceiling


spun-fine linen and bottled scented secrets - worn at random upon her whim - lying across her bed

she sleeps


as if feathers are but floating upon her wings and not the ceiling crashing debris

remains of accuracy - quite great I'm afraid - these bits of unwise mistakes

from the bullets she shot straight through her security when she aimed perfectly

however my perception is a bit askew for I am just looking through this slew of the many holes in her ceiling


-Christine Kincer

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

A Romance Untold

'This is not the end. This is not the beginning. Holding onto what I haven't got.' 
-Linkin Park

In a cornered space, where destination meets uncertainty, there are roads curling about their edges, streets cobbling themselves into places unexpected, and grounds shifting beneath the steps pounding on them. This place offers a style not easy to live, and a terrain difficult to inhabit. The houses have no doors, the windows have no glass, and the occupants have no choice but to be open and vulnerable to whatever the wind breathes in.

And it was here, in this sliver of a community, he moved with assurance. A stranger, cool & confident. His stride possessed all the virile a man could access. The unpredictable passages carried no threat.

And oh, how attractive was this - his movement! It caught and froze every pair of eyes on contact. The pulse of a primal man beating like a gentleman.

A blending, rare & flawless.

And she was tender in her movement - a grace unforgiving in its display. A nature, mild. Expressed in abandonment, wild. No limits; unafraid.

She existed in this cornered place, where the footing lacked solidity & security.

It is true. She possessed a knack for greeting the ground only by crashing down. The realization that her carefully hung fantasies, though lovely in their prisms' reflecting, could not exist without some kind of stability. And so, she had no choice but in this corner to reside. It was her domain; her expertise; where she thrived. 

Her offbeat sparkle caught the attention of our fine fellow. He saw her frolicking. Fascination did more than enter his atmosphere. It penetrated every fiber of being, causing him to do something he never did -- stumble.

With his footing lost & breath taken away, a vicious pause grabbed him and made him stay. His distinguished movement stopped in a place where he could experience her allure. Her delicacy. He could not pull himself away. The very air he needed to breathe, she became.

However, Duty was not pleased.

The force he adopted along his journey. Duty kept him devoted and motivated. Working. And to Duty, a slave he willingly became. Duty absolutely had his heart. A long ago agreement made.

But the rare beauty drew him, in spite of Duty. He could not help himself. His soul's need; it seemed. No control had he.

Closer he moved. And when the rare beauty smiled at him, he went down.

Hard he fell.

In the dust swirling around, the rare beauty ran to him. A familiarity she recognized in his fallacy; her heart attended to the misfortune of his deed. And it was at their first touching, when Cupid's arrow released - that distinct sound heard throughout history.

Duty sent her daughters, Adventure & Obligation, to his senses. They called to him. Their voices singing in his ear. The humming harmony of a known melody; a sort of comfort in their friendship sounded in the air.

He paused & listened. But only just briefly.

Before he walked away, stubbornly. To attend to the heart of his soul's beauty. It was her desires he longed to please. Her gentle ways he wanted to keep.

And the rare beauty grew ever more appealing under his care.

He gave her his best. She fed his spirit. He listened to her. She stroked his hair. He spoke in deep tones. She liked his words. And in the quiet moments they shared, his arms held her near.

Attention creating attraction.

And in their intimacy, her heart beat lively. She, and her spirit felt vital and protected within his embrace. She never wanted to let him go. He wanted to forever remain. And so they stayed. In this corner where uncertainty & destination meet.

Until one day, Duty came, tapping her cane. She tossed him the reminder of what had occurred already. His heart rattled within its cage.

He stared at the horror. He buckled under the pain. A tortured, twisted movement over him came. From the rare beauty he disengaged. From her he stood tall & separate towards his true love, Duty.

The rare beauty moved between Duty & he. She placed her own heart into his hand and wrapped his fingers about it. He looked upon her face in earnest. She dropped and held onto his legs. He opened his hand and looked at the delicate rhythms her heart made. He caressed it. The rare beauty felt his stroke & released him in hope. He then set her heart onto the ground, carefully, before turning & walking away.

The rare beauty did not watch him leave. She could not watch him leave. In the opposite direction, she ran from where her heart laid.

In time, her heart grew weak without the attention from the one she had given it to.

And one day, she returned & found it in pieces, glistening in the dirt. She knelt and buried it, while whispering, 'At least it no longer hurts.'

Everyday now she brings fresh blooms to where her planted heart lays. She has learned to exist without it. Her mind thinks it is easier this way.

Yet, mindful thoughts must remember that here in this corner of a slivered space - where destination and uncertainty meet - unfinished and abrupt are always the endings

--Christine Kincer 2011

*All pictures are taken from internet image sites. Fashion shots are from Alexander McQueen runway collections.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Corset

Dante sat at her vanity; the view outside thrived in beauty as the sky blushed in pastels. Dante could not keep her eyes from the expression complicating a face

Freshly reflected in the mirror on her vanity.

Dante stuck her tongue at it and then shifted her attention from the mirror to three nightgowns hanging in the window. The gowns were alluring - thin, delicate, feminine. And individual in their unique styles.

The one on the right posed with conviction on its hanger, confidently displaying color & attitude; the one to the left relaxed on its hanger in a chic and cool way; and the center one graced hers with blend of sophisticated innocence.

Precision stitched the three gowns. And they - dutifully - draped Dante's shape - fantastically - every time she wore them.

Dante looked out the window and said, 'Hurry up!' to the sun's breathtaking setting. She looked again into the mirror with all the heavy-breathing & finger-tapping of impatience.

And it was at the very instant of the room's natural light eclipsing into the dark of the natural night that Dante said, 'Yes. Finally.'

The black shot in, and Dante shot up. She placed a needle over a record. Sounds of a relaxed bounce scratched out a smokey french lullaby.

Dante walked and twirled to the rhythm, lighting candles throughout her messy little place. She dragged the dress she had just worn a bit before slipping it from her grasp entirely to the floor.

And as she stepped out of it, her wings unfolded.

'At last, I'm let out of my cage,' she heard whispered in the air.

'Glad I'm alone.' Dante responded.

She heard an ensemble of smiles from the creatures, curious & attractive, inching out and sprawling about her private chambers.

Dante sat at her vanity and gazed at her wings, stunning, before she began to unlace the corset she was wearing.

'Let me get that,' said a creature, dressed in excellent taste, overtaking Dante's satin strip.

'Which one will it be?' asked another creature, lying on the windowsill & up the wall extending her legs.

Dante sighed as she looked at the three gowns, 'I guess I'm going to have to try each of them.'

Soft suggestions the becoming creatures began to offer. Each politely speaking all over the other.

'And what do you guys know?' Dante responded, 'You all hide until dark.'

'So do you!' the stylish creature said, pulling tight the corset several times. Dante gasped and dropped her head back. Her neck exposed.

'That felt good,' she giggled.

Behind her, Dante dipped her head lower. Before her, Dante stretched her legs forward. She smiled & tapped her foot to the spring of the record playing, thoroughly enjoying the moment of having her breath snapped away.

And from her upside down perspective she noticed a box lying under her bed.

'What is this?' Dante asked, pulling it out & pulling the creatures in.

A closer look.

The box was long as it was laborious. Dante needed all hands and legs to handle it before she eagerly opened it all over her bed.

An empty box.

Dante's enthusiasm flopped.

But her interest peaked - What could this mean?

'May I dress you this evening?' the stylish creature said, moving Dante away from the box and back to her seat at the vanity.

'Lengthen your back, Sweetie,' the creature said.

Dante did as she was told and felt a release of control. A heavy sound dropped to the floor.

'Such a burdensome weight,' the creature said, 'Is it not?'

Dante responded with a quiet & confused look.

The creature picked up the corset from the floor. Magnificent wings were attached to it. Wings, not real.    

'Denial,' the creature said as she folded the winged-corset and put it away inside the empty box.

A shy & shamed stance overcame Dante at the sight of her reality.

The horror.

 Her awful wings were real!

'No worries, Sweetie,' the creature said  'that is what nightdresses are for. When it comes to impressions, delusion is always the lighter choice.'

-Christine Kincer 2010/2011