My signature style
is just to blab.
To let it all hang out
like excess flab.
Why must I tell you people
every little thing?--
Sentiment too lengthy for page,
words too choppy to sing.
I would hate to think
some see me as a fraud
who does things without thinking
that they could not, or,
should not applaud.
But even with a gallery of images in mind
the words that come out are too honest, I find.
(and they are ugly,
they are so ugly)
No covering up with watercolors today,
Every talent here has been washed away.
Only with my signature you are left
the loopy, whirly, twisty, bereft.
Tickle your toes. . .
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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...
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July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
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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.... -
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
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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... -
Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
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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