Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Change
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Petra won't have to stare at spreadsheets for 10 hours a day anymore. Accepting that job at the equipment place was one of her more stupid moves. Petra is a talker and a fixer and a can't-sit-down-for-long kind of gal. She must be seen and heard while she is seeing and hearing everything going on…
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it's ok if the songwriting suffersthe poetry stinkssnapshots of flowersboring/blurry/bathed in shitty lightit's all rightthe big red death moonand a pox on your lipsbrings big big changeand change is magicdisguised as one's biggest fear
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Daisy is happy she gets to eat fish kibble at her cousin's house. Dreams are sweet when you're swimming in a bowl of tails and scales and entrails. Daisy's dressed all festive for fall, too. Autumn gives us all sweater-and-scarf thoughts. No worries, pumpkin.
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What you are meant to have will show up on your porch eventually. It may be festively beribboned. It may sit at the bottom of a grease-stained Wendy's sack. "It" is the opportunity you work on in the quiet moments of a busy day. Or, in spurts of activity that come with the full moon.…
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You are starting over and you're happy to do it. There is no time like that one time which should have passed in a jiffy but is in continuous playback mode. No change in sight. Pull loops tight on circuitous thoughts. Don't fear the plateau. It's a springboard into the unknown. And here's a complimentary…
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Pepper.Mixed with ink. Throughline – Commuter spills it. Signs.Used to confuse.
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I am a visitor here. When will the walls start to talk? Lines must be down; a widespread outage. No wonder the stars are burning at 30%. With so little light to go by, the question remains: Will I grow feet or wings, and where would those things take me? I see the pit, the…
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A slash of weak sunlight fell across the trivet with the blue rooster. It served as a weight so the construction paper wouldn't fly off the kitchen counter. In black ink Maia printed for the kids' sake, and used the words reminiscent, introspection, distaste, and exemplifies in her note. She wrote the date and time…
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She doesn't think I see her, but I do. Oh, I do. The ramshackle lady in flimsy pink flip-flops is a ghost. Is a ghost. We all haunt the places we miss the most. Even when the body is bound up by the present day, the spirit struggles to have its way. It asks: "Is…
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Just when I say I'll get a new lens to look through (in the hopes of seeing something new) a bird (a big one with a 6-foot wingspan) swoops out of nowhere (o.k. – swoops down from the snag I walk by every a.m.) and squawks in my face: "It's like this, little chicken;…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 