maybe it’s too short (maybe you’re too short) tripped on thee third word and fish linestangled in the water because it’s all about pushing his buttons
with tulips, my sister said
Knee deep in my white, weathered bones, and in the smooth circumspective fingertips on my right hand, I can feel the ebb and flow of how things go and I don’t know if it’s not nonsense after all.
Dig deep in loose, brown leather muck and red, smeared over soil like plaster and newly mixed war paint. Drain dry this cup, elixir like falls from snow mountains, dripped down black branches, washed over small pebbles. Soak up this sun, light glinting off a discarded dime of spilled dew in your gardens, and bloom!
Too Much Luck and I'm
Waiting for baby grand pianos to tumble from second story windows
The sunset sky with dusky violet swirls of candy-heart love and blunt, orange brushstrokes of miss-you-more-than-summer lifted her up, up and away— the parachuted girl who should have come down far earlier than she did. Looking up from the sidewalk, he waited while tapping one sensibly shoed foot, with its earth-hold-me-down steel-toed boots, and pushing his black wire glasses up, up the...
Apple Wine Weekend
Fancy meeting you here on a Wednesday after… well, you know and all that— now sit down before you fall down. I’d rather not call the doctor this early in the morning.
Bored? Buy a book... →
Even mine will do ;)
In the fields, pondering
What spies that come down from Valhalla, the mountain to bless me and kiss me and call me their own? There’s risk in this intrigue and damned if I don’t think that no one can lie like a man on a throne.
The Seven Year Itch
Oh smash it down smash that reflection with a shatter and clamor she ran from bad luck on fair weather feet.
What they found in Jericho
He and she, both foreheads together bent over that picture book like there were dusty, cobwebbed prophesies spun from one scripted edge to the next, and she had two sets of keys and a thing for sevens like Joshua or the days of the week and he had a makeshift will of too many days without sleep and the eyes to make connections between river valleys and ancient Aramaic— or Latin at...
Give it your best shot
Ascertain the names of our dinner guests and arrange the table accordingly. No brunettes on the far side and no old men to my right. I have a headache and can’t be expected to entertain tonight.
…I don’t know that I’ll ever get...
Take care, my love. That savors strongly of bitterness.– Mrs. Gardiner to Lizzie (Pride and Prejudice). And my mother’s favorite quote to me.
Pretty Little Things
Broken bits of sand dollars wrapped over macrame—mention this to your mother, why don’t you? Not everything that glitters is gold. Not everything that rusts is silver. And not everyone wants, either.