Writer. Demand Poet.
—
my knee is swollen
twice normal. A week busy
taking care of
everyone else and
poo-pooing,
don’t hear
my body whispering.
Now, it being Sunday, the
relentless ache
turns me into
an exhausted heap of
terror.
—
—
Five oatmeal bowls in the sink;
Mushy grains floating.
Instead I eat Ezekiel bread;
Spouted grains toasted.
It’s true I’ve always been
So wildly different.
— part of the 2013 Mindful Writing Challenge on “Writing Our Way Home”
—
How still the house
Can be without
My son home:
I hear pages turning,
Socks sliding on
The hardwood, the
Gurgle of the baseboard
Heaters. These and also
Impatient jangling of
Nerves at once relieved,
Then shuddering with the… Read the rest “How Still – small stone”
—
how you adore the
Gloomy Bear, with his
Saucer eyes, and pink
fur. You don’t
Notice that he’s
Sadistic anime with
Blood on his
Claws. I coo
Nonchalantly and
Slowly
Close that tab.
–
I’m writing small stones … Read the rest “A Girl and Gloomy – small stone”
—
A chopped up
Christmas carol
Then
Hurrays and oh-my-
Goshes,
Then
Assorted giggles and
HAHAHAHs
Break from a
Passing argument and
Float from the
Other room.
Dandelion seeds
On a wind.
—
I’m writing small stones as part … Read the rest “The Other Room — small stone”