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ASHLEY WILSON FELLERS

notes from a creative life …

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February 7, 2018May 8, 2019A // W // F

when i find holy ground in the weedy underbrush …

I am going to tell you a story, and you will probably not believe me.

I’m deciding that’s okay…

Continue Reading "when i find holy ground in the weedy underbrush …"
March 21, 2016May 8, 2019A // W // F

brave words for fearful people …

Go out into the world:

Go!  Yes, you — though you are fearful and fragile and small.

Go broken-winged and bent-boned and beauty-starved… Lovesick.  Stardrunk. Skydizzy.

Or go sharp-eyed and sober, if that’s how it is — the hunger for the light a clenched fist in your stomach …

Continue Reading "brave words for fearful people …"
February 26, 2016May 8, 2019A // W // F

other tongues …

I have spent my life in the company of those who like to talk about words. Their power (so they say) mightier than the sword.

But words are just one language, and — hear me — there are others.  Ones I am just now beginning to learn…

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February 5, 2016May 8, 2019A // W // F

rock-steady

You.

You.

You.

You have loved me
like mountains do …

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January 14, 2016May 8, 2019A // W // F

the imperfectionist’s prayer

oh, Lord, leave me …

… undone.

heal me, but don’t –
(forgive me
for saying it) …

Continue Reading "the imperfectionist’s prayer"
October 8, 2015May 8, 2019A // W // F

a metaphor in the beating of wings …

… I watched them leap the street again, spooling up into a cyclone, a thunderhead, a swell.  In a moment, their shape shifted into something else entirely:  something animal.

Or perhaps something not animal at all …

Continue Reading "a metaphor in the beating of wings …"
September 1, 2015May 8, 2019A // W // F

on shadow & light, sunshine & silhouettes … & seeing my own magic

This evening.

I am walking the dog at sunset, stopped at a street corner, waiting for traffic to pass.  I am lost in thought.

Suddenly a car flashes by, and for the briefest moment I glimpse …

Continue Reading "on shadow & light, sunshine & silhouettes … & seeing my own magic"
January 17, 2015May 8, 2019A // W // F

a promise, left on a park bench in the frost …

…I had it already prepared:  the words inked on the shiny green undersides of six acuba leaves, with their brilliant gold speckles.  I stuck a hand in my pocket and ran a thumb over their leather skins.

Yes.  This place. This…

Continue Reading "a promise, left on a park bench in the frost …"
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