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Drunken One-Night Stands...Drunken One-Night Stands with Coworkers,Drunken One-Night Stands...
Acquaintances, Postmen, Waitresses
Exploration of the unknown and aren’t you the one. Warm throats form warm words that seep like diamonds in all uncertain terms
to the path of least resistance.
We will rough the midnight waves over peaks of no innocent height, bucking hard against the unrelenting whistling dawn and a shuddering half-truth that, in an upstart of mumbles and untangled limbs, dons a liar’s costume to turn the dubious absolute.
by ~sewingcircles
Four Usually Brightly“The butterflies are passive-aggressive and put their problems on the shelf, but they’re so beautiful.” - Ben Kweller, “In Other Words”Four Usually Brightly
A sea of dust blinded Foreman and he stomped on the brake pedal, hard; his truck was the caboose in a train of three vehicles rattling down a dry two-track through woods within woods somewhere between Mackinaw City and Cheboygan, Michigan. “Sonofabitch,” he cursed, his speech only slightly impeded by the pinch of tobacco lodged between his bottom teeth and lip. Foreman waited until the cloud disappeared around a corner before depressing the accelerator, and even th
by ~sewingcircles
Between the Newly SmallBetween the Newly SmallBetween the Newly Small
I am past the fear of too close and cry over words or trees that are too beautiful to behold dry-eyed. I don’t care who sees.
I have a friend who is a poet by birth. he is shedding his thick winter coat - nature knows the time is right.
we write with our hands, molding volumes, existing by snapping shutters and learning human nature only goes as far as the next only-too-human curled up on hot summer nights in the narrowest bed.
the clay is stubborn but softens with Time. palms are so sensitive to the li
by ~sewingcircles
Sestina 1Sestina #1Sestina 1
Past the abandoned Saint Mary’s School for Girls Through tunnels of cracked sidewalks and gnarled trees To a house of gray cement and stone A soft, colloquial word Sends the fallen-from-grace Inside with its dragonfly movement.
One speaks dexterously about The Movement And waits, like a watchmaker’s apprentice, for some inconspicuous girl To drift in with vagrant grace. Resigned to the uncontrollable passing of time, waiting like trees Wait for nothing but to grow. His words Hang like a stone,
Like a tossed stone In its arcing
by ~sewingcircles
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: there
- Interests: trees, words, time, isolated communities: the only things I write about. oh, and free association.
- Favourite genre of music: folk
- Favourite poet or writer: Henry James or something
- Favourite game: Trivial Pursuit
- Tools of the Trade: My mind
- Email: secondhandshoes@hotmail.com
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Life is a rough draft.
If you're a "Kelly Clarkson" fan please send us a note with the subject "Join" and we'll make you a member of our club! [link]
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Leave your dreams behind, the real dreamworld is here.
Perceive it as you will, because reality is just a manifested vision. -rm
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Leave your dreams behind, the real dreamworld is here.
Perceive it as you will, because reality is just a manifested vision. -rm
ani, your Avatar is so cool!
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btrb_ver2
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btrb_ver2
dork?
representing santa fe art!
dork!
all bow before the mighty *SlowMo
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My mind looks down on my imagination and refuses to associate with it.
what do you mean you've never heard of ~SlowMo?
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