Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
-
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...
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked...
-
This is just a short note from me to inform you that after my extensive monthly study and subsequent written exploration of Psalms and Prove...
-
Rain, dearest friend. You know just when to pound on my head. I know there is more to this world, than what I have given from inside myself....
-
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...
-
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
The ache in my jaw reminds me of my age, that I'm still cutting teeth on broken sage and giving up meat is my best bet, because I'm ...
-
sister so (un)successful sister so in-(dependent) sister, are you in there? "always the color blue, always take the train, always wink ...
-
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...
No comments:
Post a Comment