Conversations with a Wasteland.
Tomorrow: is hostile. The cacti are evolving. What was once matte rubber is now charred flesh. Their long spines bend and twist into painful shapes: fingers sprouting like pin cushions. The last coyotes circle and salivate, but, like me, are too afraid to attack. For hours I watch. The hasty sketches never [...]
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Also tagged Arby's, bears, Ben Franklin, black, blood, bones, Boulder City, feathers, Geronimo, kaleidoscope, lions, Miss America, pickles, post-its, rats, sand, sashes, smell, toilet, turkeys, twenty-first century denim, wax Maya Angelou
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A storm can sit in the bottom of my stomach for days before I know its there. Thundering. My therapist says to sit tight, stop biting my nails, and take two Valiums in the morning. She also says to quit drinking. She’s right, I should avoid being cloudy, especially when I’m stormy.
When you’re a [...]
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Also tagged applause, book, booze, conference, fungus, librarian, make up, matches, rug burn, stomach, storm, valium
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I used to eat chickadees, bores pores, and the shin skin. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, spicy jams all of them slathered thick. Tender and rare would describe my dinners, I asked for
“Blood please.” Always with a smile or a giggle. A twinkle in my eye. Foreshadowing the glean of the fat as it dripped. Pooling and [...]
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Also tagged baby, blood, bores pores, chickadees, confused, cry, dance, dinners, fat, grease, Ketchup, mustard, scream, shin skin, spicy jams
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