Fabric It's not just the pattern and color, it's the hand – the feel of the fabric. I can tell just by rubbing fabric whether or not it has polyester, cotton, silk, wool. It's the drape, too. That's like the hand, but with gravity added – how gracefully does it fold, how does it move … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 18: Fabric
My apologies in advance for another intense poem. I'll try to lighten things up tomorrow. The tinkle of ice in a glass might sound like I'm recreating the scene except I know in the end she stopped bothering with niceties like ice and glasses. In the end, the only thing that mattered was the … Continue reading NaPoWriPo 17
Arson We saw the smoke from the fire before the fire itself, like you always do. So much smoke that on the bus on the way home, our grade school selves couldn't figure out where it came from, and then as we got closer, I saw my neighbor's house, engulfed and another, smaller column of … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 16: Arson
It's time to cart away the old growth in the garden beds the branches and stems that didn't yield to winter It's time to say goodbye, finally, to last year and all that I didn't do then I'll stack those dried out brown branches and set them on fire the way I want to cart … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 15
Last week's goals with progress indicated: Continue the fronts for Aspen. Done. No, really: the fronts are done. I finished them last night and haven't even taken a picture. (Sorry.) Weave in some of the ends on Aranami & knit at least 1 new wedge. Nope. I didn't pick up this shawl up at all. Go … Continue reading The Week April 17-23, 2017
My Boys They still grow up, up, and away, as they always have pieces of me receding on the horizon like migrating birds, like planes, like Supermen.
I'm buckling down for the long haul Laying in the supplies again Measuring my life by how much there may be left to live, how many more times I'll see the daffodils the buds the welcome green of spring.
Magical Numbers Three Eleven eleven Eleventy Forty two Six six six Nine one one Eight oh two, four five seven, two four, two eight Zero zero eight
Stolen PacMan The quarters were kept in an old apothecary jar with a chipped rim on the windowsill over the sink, lined up with the rest of the antique bottle collection: A cobalt blue cold cream pot with a rusted metal lid, The squared bottle with a skull watermark visible only at a particular angle, … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 10: Stolen PacMan
I haven't swallowed the drill at the dentist yet I should just walk away Clever inside jokes lucky charms they don't explain sipping my milkshake Too fast, brain freeze hurts Novocaine wearing off, dulled aching in my heart.