Alyson Pou

TO US AT TWILIGHT PERFORMANCE SCRIPT.. by Alyson Pou

As the plane descends, I feel as though my ability to think is leaving me just as rapidly. Why does a sudden constriction grip my chest as I’m leaving the airport? The wet warm southern air winds around me like an invisible vine. I can already smell the bayou. Then we ride through the dark to an open-air pavilion, a party, candlelight and the soft sounds of jazz. Shadows of palm trees and oaks line the quiet black lake; stone lions guard the steps and Grecian columns. As we approach, I see this structure like the ruins of a river road plantation and the white swans floating together in the moonlight.

CASPERSEN BEACH IS WASHING AWAY- NON-FICTION... by Alyson Pou

There are some places in this world that I always want to go back to.

There is something about them. There is a dialogue, a conversation I want to have. It’s sort of like being with a person. I want to be with the place, understand how all the parts fit together, or more precisely just get to know some of the layer. How does it fit together?

POETRY...by Alyson Pou

Sunlight shines red

Through my father’s thumb

On the steering wheel

Christmas Eve

So cold we can only laugh

As we climb the hill