Monthly Archives: March 2013
a Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
I’ve got winter of the brain. Outside we still have snow malingering in clumpy piles, melted just enough to reveal evidence of canine habitation, but not melted enough for me to make the mistake that spring is on its way.
a Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
I’ve got winter of the brain. Outside we still have snow malingering in clumpy piles, melted just enough to reveal evidence of canine habitation, but not melted enough for me to make the mistake that spring is on its way.
b ~ Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
There should be a word for the feeling you get when bad news sucker punches you in the gut; taking your breath with it, leaving you winded and speechless. Not the sharp blade cutting through skin, but a fist leaving
b ~ Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
There should be a word for the feeling you get when bad news sucker punches you in the gut; taking your breath with it, leaving you winded and speechless. Not the sharp blade cutting through skin, but a fist leaving
a ~ Smoothed by long fingers
I have no hobbies. I have Things I Love To Do That I Hope One Day Someone Will Pay Me Lots Of Money To Do All the Time. I discovered this winter, though, that that’s not entirely true. I
a ~ Smoothed by long fingers
I have no hobbies. I have Things I Love To Do That I Hope One Day Someone Will Pay Me Lots Of Money To Do All the Time. I discovered this winter, though, that that’s not entirely true. I
b ~ Smoothed by long fingers
Maybe it’s this time of year. The grey of March has drained me. The bulky sweaters and heavy wool coats have flattened my existence, leaving me a cardboard cutout of myself. I feel like a paperdoll, no ideas in my
b ~ Smoothed by long fingers
Maybe it’s this time of year. The grey of March has drained me. The bulky sweaters and heavy wool coats have flattened my existence, leaving me a cardboard cutout of myself. I feel like a paperdoll, no ideas in my
a ~ And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
I’m sick. I’m profoundly ill. I’m uncomfortable. I am not good company. The one silver lining is that M’s parents are visiting and they took B to the house next door and now my own house is silent in a
a ~ And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
I’m sick. I’m profoundly ill. I’m uncomfortable. I am not good company. The one silver lining is that M’s parents are visiting and they took B to the house next door and now my own house is silent in a
b ~ And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
I am ready to say goodbye to: Winter coats, fleece scarves, warm hats, handknit gloves & mittens. Bulky sweaters, wool socks, thermal undergarments, and corduroy pants. Flannel sheets, down comforters, electric blankets and hot water bottles. Snow shovels, ice scrapers,
b ~ And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
I am ready to say goodbye to: Winter coats, fleece scarves, warm hats, handknit gloves & mittens. Bulky sweaters, wool socks, thermal undergarments, and corduroy pants. Flannel sheets, down comforters, electric blankets and hot water bottles. Snow shovels, ice scrapers,
b ~ I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors
On the way to graduation Sunday, I listened to a reading of Kristin Kimball’s “The Dirty Life.” I had an eye on the road, and half an ear cocked towards the speaker. When I heard the phrase “He shunned the
b ~ I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors
On the way to graduation Sunday, I listened to a reading of Kristin Kimball’s “The Dirty Life.” I had an eye on the road, and half an ear cocked towards the speaker. When I heard the phrase “He shunned the
a ~ I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
I’ve been reading an article in the recent Poets & Writers about seeing, and realizing – not for the first time – that I rarely see what I’m looking at. Autopilot is my default and I’ve been relying heavily on
a ~ I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
I’ve been reading an article in the recent Poets & Writers about seeing, and realizing – not for the first time – that I rarely see what I’m looking at. Autopilot is my default and I’ve been relying heavily on
Let us go then, you and I 