and how I wish
the air smelled sweet
like salty rain
then maybe I could feel
at home again?
But sometimes-
-days like today
I am home, but sick
Because now-
-all I smell
is horse-shit.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
you don't care, even though you were there. and so like you the little exhausted children sleep through all of the noise, and florescent...
-
There is a hidden warmth in you you do not show to others and it pulls me under like quick sand. Or maybe it is the movement of the sands th...
-
did someone die, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thing? was someone born, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thin...
-
The fog has permenantly frosted the window pane- my fingers tracing, communicating nothing, I leave perpetual markings--eternal my love for ...
-
The Eternal Critic The light verses dark and the smudged and softened brush strokes suggests to me it is, as always, religious propaganda of...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
Dear, Run. Arrows in your belly and ribs and rear you were once wounded, dear. Limping, Heartsick, Struggling to catch up green from my succ...
-
a lock has been broken. safe-keeping is relative and unlike kitten curled up blanket-snug fever pitch is high caught low crib bars bend-and ...
-
I am the palm touching my cheek, and hiding my face, I am dead nerve endings--pulsating alive again, I am the little girl who cuddles viciou...

I think I smell a pun...
ReplyDeleteHehe, very nicely written Amy.
Thank you, Nathan
ReplyDelete