She writes the things she does not want
to do. A “chuckit” list of sorts, a way of
stretch-scribbling her soul, working out
the nots. Her thoughts spill. Fill these
pages in intricate stages of naw and never
-lands. Some in pencil; some in pen. She
draws the lines in broad and fine, in ink
and sand. She supposes her nays might
leave more white space, more room for
praise. Sun-tumbled songs. Breathing.
I feel that the like button is inadequate. Perhaps there should be an exclamation point button. Words fail me in my delight over this piece. So instead, here’s my reaction: !!!
Thanks so much, Mandie. 🙂
This sounds like a cathartic activity- especially away from people with toes in the sand
Yes, the quest for white space and breathing room…this could be me, yet I seem to gnaw over those “naws”.
Working through the nots!!! OMG brilliant! Love it!
Sent from my iPad
Oh my gosh, I LOVE this poem!!! Especially this as a sentence: “Working out the nots, her thoughts spill.”
That title had me bouncing in my seat. That was SO clever.
I love those last lines – ‘leave more white space, more room for
praise. Sun-tumbled songs. Breathing.’