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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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Dear, Run. Arrows in your belly and ribs and rear you were once wounded, dear. Limping, Heartsick, Struggling to catch up green from my succ...
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The Eternal Critic The light verses dark and the smudged and softened brush strokes suggests to me it is, as always, religious propaganda of...
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you don't care, even though you were there. and so like you the little exhausted children sleep through all of the noise, and florescent...
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Love is impatient with me. Love is unkind to me. It envies. It boasts. It is so proud. Love was once rude, it sought only itself and then wa...
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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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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
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There is a hidden warmth in you you do not show to others and it pulls me under like quick sand. Or maybe it is the movement of the sands th...
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I am the palm touching my cheek, and hiding my face, I am dead nerve endings--pulsating alive again, I am the little girl who cuddles viciou...
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The fog has permenantly frosted the window pane- my fingers tracing, communicating nothing, I leave perpetual markings--eternal my love for ...
yay! i'm glad you'll still be here, too. x
ReplyDeleteCan't wait - bring it on!
ReplyDeletereading them again here and all at once will be an interesting experience - i look forward to it :))
ReplyDelete