Month: January 2012
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Love ends
Would we be bad without other people? People need people. People have eaten people. People have raped people. Alone we are safe from harm yet we are lonely. What a species. If there were one human on earth would she be angry? At sun? At auroras she couldn’t touch? At the feral dog who would…
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Meant to be seen
I haven’t gone IN in a while. Maybe it’s because I’ve been pretty content and fear is keeping me from dragging my feet against the river bottom. I don’t want to deal with all the silt. I don’t want to muddy the water. I told my mom that I got my tattoo, so I wouldn’t…
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Leave it to Aunt Julie to figure it out…
My mom asked. I can’t lie. Virginia Elwood is a tattoo goddess. A friend of mine a while ago told me to “put my hand out, write it down, tell the truth.” I got the first phrase. 1. Because it scared me and I wanted to conquer a fear of the “tattoo” unknown. 2. Because…
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well-oiled machine
I can’t think at length anymore. Everything is short city blocks of thought. This morning is cold, my skin is peeling. I’ve been told to stay out of the sun, but who purposefully avoids warmth? There is nothing in this post, I’m just out of practice. Gold skin, but underneath just skin and bone. I…
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Am I getting fat when …
a piece of cheeto falls down my shirt only to be softly absorbed by my belly button – and then I eat it?
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Dirt day
There’s a broken pipe in the ceiling at work. I hope it’s not toilet water from upstairs. Every ten minutes or so brown earth comes crashing onto the linoleum – a collection of years, fossils, rat shit and plaster. I’m curious how it got there in the first place, how long it’s been there caking,…
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Put your hand out…
It hurt, but we talked shop while I sat under her light. The writing ebb and the squirts you might consider the “flow.” She’s a writer, too, an artist. I sat like a champ. I didn’t tear up. I didn’t flinch. I viced bubble mint gum between my teeth and watched a dream become my…
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Gather Kindling
Saturday, I got word from Gather Kindling that a short poem of mine is going to appear in the March issue. When I first submitted this 3 line poem, I figured it was a long shot, but I did it anyway because I loved the idea of this “magazine.” I hope you check it out…
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I want to ride my bicycle
I was riding my bike up a gravel hill, churning and pushing, fighting so hard my own weight almost tipped me over. I stopped a few times, put my feet down for balance and pushed off again against the pedals with every thing I had. Finally when I made it to the top, I looked…