Semi-Daily Scribbles
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Category: Endings
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We interact with each other's mask(Parti Town gets brisk business)You only know the me I put onfor everyday wear Meat Is Where the Might IsThe shell is but a calling card 'Round and 'round we've been and never once have we gotten this trick right. Strange emotions and uncomfortable realizations equal the best we can…
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This is not our time. At most, we've been around the bend twice. Early days still to be well enough to collaborate. We'll just have to remember our safe word for the next time, and time after that, and one more time again. Each meet-up should prove to be more productive than the last. Even…
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Upside down cups, a potted plant and coins rattle-rub against a paperback at the bottom of my gunny sack. How's a girl supposed to ignore omens like that? — The Poet S. Three Weisenheimers got a message for us: Something can never come from nothing.I looked for the entrance. Paths would have been left to…
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Work? YES!Calling what you do A JOB?Work on changing that concept into your CALLING.Our journey begins with how we name a thing. QUICK FIRE CHALLENGE … THOUGHTS! I like being the only misfit in the room. However, now that I've stumbled upon the "Lost Continent," I'm considered downright square and prime fogey material compared to…
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I haven't heard anything official. He's just not here.Yeah, umm … there's a funny story about that.Who has the shekels to be zaftig?I can only capture your image during a downpour.What does it mean when people are upside down and objects look just right? More a love bite than a parting shot:The time I've spent…
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Even though I drew itI didn't need to cross itEverything I makeI undoYou've registered your discomfortI've rendered myself a triggerAll in the quest to learnWhat is true
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A pole climberA clownA grocery cart pusher wearing someone else's ringA girl who crossed the International Date LineAnd waited for you in a bar nobody else could findYou wrote her name recently in a book of receiptsHeartache and anger rearranged the letters taKe15 years and too many miles to matterWe walk on stage with nothing…
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longing for the old countrywhere its inhabitants would eat your tender bellyand spit out what would be left of any backboneyou are neither just off the boatnor are you 15 quid short of the price needed for membershipyour contacts are clouded by a pretty shade of pussy willowwhile you struggle to juggle disparate worlds in…
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Yea, for the unreasonable season be upon us, and emotions are squishy and raw. Deal with the feels if you must. But for the sake of propriety (sobriety, piety) please don't go losing your everloving mind during this Neptunian grope fest.
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In your solitude, create art. Virginia would want you to. There is no such thing as loneliness. Rub away the charcoal line until the jawbone is softened. With eraser, swipe at age spots that give up the great lie. Smooth as a baby's argument; clear as the conscience of a nun. Creases are a way…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 