wrists with a desperate
tingling sensation
all there is to do
is bind them
to each other
weaving them into
a coiled rope.
scratching my nails
against the hard bark of a
tree. hacking away
the chipping bricks of
bark. such a loud
shriek it's soul makes.
there it is the living,
vulnerable green
that weeps sap
all over my fingers
and pleads me to stop
picking.
Tickle your toes. . .
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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.... -
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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strange tree, your flowers look like badminton birdies.
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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...
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My latest endeavor is to begin reading "Tell it Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction" by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paula...
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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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Though it hasn't been months since I have written and attempted edits within my memoir, it has been quite some time since I have reflect...
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I was just awarded the Stylish Blogger Award! (awarded by John Evans ) I was asked to write 7 things about myself,and to award 10 ot... -
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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