lipstick on the teacup steaming bedroom eyes.
glasses resting folded newspaper bookmarked novel.
barefoot toenails pink lotion ringed fingers.
naked on the oriental throw rug.
~
piss fart shit jokes muffled laughter.
worms dirt seaweed sand bottle of beer mosquito bites:
pretty girl-boys don't even look at me.
someday I will be a woman.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
it's not possible. I think the problem must be- too much love and hate.
-
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...
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
-
Recently I have been really attempting to delve into what it means to be a poet. Jim Morrison once wanted to be a poet, and look where it go...
-
My latest endeavor is to begin reading "Tell it Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction" by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paula...
-
I dismiss my mounds of paper, habitual piling. I embrace a soft blue-jay's tail.
-
August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P another month of you and possibly me W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember- the ...
-
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 froze...
Poets United Contributor
A real woman. Nicely stated. :)
ReplyDeletedon't grow up too fast ...
ReplyDeleteyes, ironically I wish I could tell my younger self this, as lonely as she was.
ReplyDeleteLOL@ don't grow up too fast. On my way to 30 whether I like it or not :P
ReplyDelete