Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Peace
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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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Turn your world upside down and see what falls out of its pockets. Any keepers, tossers, or mysteries mixed in with the lint? What have you been holding on to? Does it hug you back (like maybe a small primate with its digits around your neck?) Cartwheels reveal frightfully forgotten things.
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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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digressive chatterdigestive splattermy display dripswith statusthat doesn'tmatter turn off the worry machine
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I'm a grown woman, for God's sake. I can leave the house for ten minutes and go for a walk. Can't they understand that? And then he runs out of the house, barefoot and clad in too-large-for-his-skinny-frame neon green pajamas. Maia and Pookie walk by this house nearly every day; she's never seen the boy…
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blip says: don't feel like it's a slap in the face. it's nothing but a donut in the hole. if betsy needs to come back to earth pretend you're unaware the air is so thin up there. no one cares for know-it-alls. fading star power left a churning, swirling whirligig in its wake that ate…
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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…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 