Gone away before your time, my dear, sweet boy, what a soul you had! The hand of God moves over the waters and through green grasses caressing the earth. You followed west breezes and sent back such stories and hugged me so warmly before leaving that last…yes, time can be cruel with reminders. My dear, my lovely, you’ve left me alone here and now distant our voices from so long ago....
Shouting by a lamp post
Not once but twice that’s how many times I scraped cold ice from my soul and ate a grimace like a rotten peach muddied on my molars to make sure you felt ‘comfortable.’ Well, screw that.
Passed over and parceled out five dollars for a sack of moldy onions and scattered bread crumbs. Let this be your lesson, if you need one: I juggled with the onions and seagulls ate the bread crumbs.
Re: My attempt at shape poetry :)
On the dash, it looks horrendous…but on the blog it actually turned out okay. Haha yay for experiments!
My attempt at shape poetry :)
a The sail swift and in the sailing fun wind and I’ve had with watch as it out the ties and blows and ropes that hold the see how it can drifter back and carry you and I firmly away from the to where joy and life of the waters of the Nile and the seas of the Pacific in their grandeur and their swaying; they Water, still water ~~~...
Modern Day Fairy Tales #1
The white knight left last Tuesday. Now every day smolders and a new kind of light flows in through the windows, unnatural and beastly, like the breath of a dragon all scales, claws and oil slicked back and sticky like a greasy businessman too free with his hands as I lean on the bar and wait on my tab taking each “honey, you’re lovely” with a “sweetheart, stand...
The play's the thing
Black comedy is an overused device. It’s lost its potency from years of patched together productions. But those ironic twists still make a person smile. There is no fear of divine resolution here. In an earth made of dirt and water, no possibility ends in an extreme, just a sopping, muddy mess. I will entertain this adventure passively. Quiet and demure, I’ll see it play out....
tenmilesfromhome asked: than you very much. I do like your poetry as well, its like adouble chocolate gateaux, you just want more!
Pro Se Divorcée
there’s sense and then there’s something else altogether or all together, I guess if we’ve made this into a family affair dinner will be at six appetizers on the back porch sunshine in your eyes as you explain again why you broke our pact for security in our old age and the tax breaks of filing jointly idiot.
I am a part of all that I have met.– Alfred Lord Tennyson (via natalieslittleworld)
The shameless promotion continues... →
If you like my poetry, you’ll probably like my prose. And if you like historical fiction narrated by a burned-out, bitchy blind woman, you will definitely like this book. Some of you have already checked it out and many many thanks for that. You’ve increased your karma ruples by hundreds :)
Another day, another dollar, another twenty percent for Uncle Sam and his assorted family— my family they tell me— though I never get a birthday present or a card at Christmas, just more pavement on these dead end highways that lead back to more days, and more dollars.