Monthly Archives: August 2016

365 too-small rooms in a too-long hallway

… you will need a flashlight, and something to read and (’round some corners) the energy and prowess of one thousand ninjas. you will want to bring comfortable shoes and sunscreen and perhaps a Snickers bar cuz you’re not goin’ … Continue reading

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the year of the dragon

.. of living dangerously of fire and steam and dreams that go up in smoke. of chalking the street with our tumble-numbered days and wonderwandering through the slew of things we thought we wanted. of scales and skin and the … Continue reading

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365

  … ticktockticktockticktock it says and we listen and then don’t; pace ourselves and rush, blush at the thought of another sunrise. winterspringsummerfall it moans and we groan that we’re too cold or too hot or not just-right-tepid, temperate and … Continue reading

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Miss Moon

.. She is most mad, really, all frilly in her cloud skirt, just a girl made up of stone and star -dust. This morning, we caught her sneaking home again, up way past her bedtime, still clad in last night’s … Continue reading

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falling into blank spaces

.. wrangle pen. begin the excruciating dance of cat and mouse pad. lull ink bubble to grin. melt yourself into an indigo shimmer-twist-skip of gold and green breeze of spill, a rose-colored glass half full. journey-jar your soul with silence, … Continue reading

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new songs

.. she leaves. she’s left. leaves fall, bereft of spring and silence. he knows. he’s known. the days have grown spilled, and small. she’s got a million reasons to stay, and ampersand this strand. he’s got a thousand things to … Continue reading

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The Blurry Aftermath

.. Blowtorch. Deep -water. The flu(n)ctuation of de -cadence. The new songs (seducer soon and locust long) that come too soon and leave urban sprawl cloudy walls. Account for falling. Coconuts. The crypt -ology of reason. The corrupt seducer seasons … Continue reading

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dragon roll

.. the sky’s a hot mess of wasabi origami cloud cover and white (hot) noise. tuck in, begin the free of falling, the flight of calling yourself strange. we’re scaled, pageless. ageless and deranged. we’ve got a feel for the … Continue reading

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The low and quiet hum of it

.. There’s an aria here, too, and ballad moments. Nights filled with long slow love songs. Days drumming our hands against the furniture to the beat of our kids’ hearts, the rock album noisy rhythm of it all. There’s the … Continue reading

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call of the while

.. all wit and whim and slim-jim trim stims aside, we abide by exactly 0 of the rules. we choose and snooze and lose ourselves in the (squirrel!) (shiny object!) (hey! my soul!) game of cat and mouse (-keteer). state … Continue reading

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