It's not the pen
It is the ink
But it is the dishes
and not the sink
and it's never in your eye
but in your wink
it's just frozen in the ice
not spinning in the rink.
It's your body
and not your clothes
it's the stuff
that rarely shows
It's just the stuff
that wind just blows
the stuff
that rarely shows
It's the stuff that the wind blows-away,
and the stuff you never seem to say.
Tickle your toes. . .
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In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but... -
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
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and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
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secret fancies don't really bother me, alright? but know that once you tell me I become either like a turtle and snap my smile...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
Cal, For Elizabeth Bishop You are American gossip, Didn't anyone have the heart to tell you? You said yourself, you are fantastic and u...
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July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
Poets United Contributor
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