i wrote about the color blue
at least a hundred times
You turn left, heading down the path into the Woods. Pleased by your choice, the…
I have become a soup of myself.I boiled my bones, skimmed off the fat andBoiled again. My bones in a bag boiling.Bones removed and broth gets filledWith vanity and carrots and normalcy,And a few potatoes.
It was a Sunday The sun peered inA mother and daughter laughed through each other’s wordsI was barely awakeWhen the telephone rang
The game is tied 8–8, and the sun just won’t let it be. It’s hot as all hell. I twist in my seat, rip off my baseball cap, slam it…