Monthly Archives: August 2014

…. I am weary of the sound of my own voice, my choice of tone, and pluck of phrase. There is no song left here, only the long -ing of an inkless heart, the inkling of a long road start, … Continue reading →

… There’s a man in the corner who says I should …….Listen: these trees have something to say; they collaborate with clouds. He’s loud, but I listen with care, anyway, because this world is spinning too fast for my taste, … Continue reading →

…. It gives the illusion of strength, of solid rock g(r)asping at azure sky. It holds the secrets of the clouds, the proud bright shine of standing. To climb is to admit there just might be something bigger than you. … Continue reading →

….   Drive her past the church, and she just might confess all, the small things she hid all these years, and the big white one she wore on her sleeve. She’ll take the ashes with a swelling throat, a … Continue reading →

….. they scooped out a spot high on my thigh that used to be shaped like a heart, and i know it’s all going to come back clean because nothing ever amounts to anything but $50 copays and our share … Continue reading →

… My lashes and lips are petals fringing my heart-vase face. Do you like my jaunty flow -er antennae hat? Imagine that, a window looking out over all this wispy nothing -ness. Have you any music? Oh, let’s dance.   … Continue reading →

…. Did I ever tell you about the light? The way the truth shone bright and strong out over the blue? The way …..you tamed my savage song, but left the low notes fierce and strong and sure? I gulped … Continue reading →

… Polly Jean is an occasion -al artist, primarily known as a fine guitarist. Give her an auto harp, a sharp eponymous start she’d rather rename, a same small lame version of her former silent self. Her bandmates call her … Continue reading →