Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Gratitude
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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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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;…
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digressive chatterdigestive splattermy display dripswith statusthat doesn'tmatter turn off the worry machine
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You need to spend a lot of alone time to figure shit out. Like, for example, is anything random? If you could hover above a topographical map of where you've been (and where you haven't been) because of decisions made, you'd see little black ants fanning out toward all sorts of possibilities. In that sprawling,…
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So here's what I wanted to tell you the other day in Piggly Wiggly => => More people need to make art for medicinal purposes. Cheap therapy! But does that art always have to be labeled with a $9.99 sticker and set out on the shelves? Ask yourself: Would someone who does not live inside…
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Tess told me she fought with her old editor to keep that part of the story intact. The teen pregnancy/baby makes two part of the novel. I didn't say anything. I simply smiled and nodded and poured Tess a fresh cup of tea. The middle child learns to keep her mouth shut and to play…
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It's hot today, but you always did like a good soak in the sun. It's been a year since I was able to scratch your chin and tell you it was too early for supper. We can feel you roam about the house, taking head count as you move from room to room so no…
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it's round it's squareit hits you on the noggin from out of thin airnaw, it was already therecoiled up in your bellystretched out on the grasswide-eyedor wearyhot coals glow and winter's grip goes slacksummer keeps coming backthe thought can't find its word butthe world still turns Inspiration
Semi-Daily Scribbles 