Category: wandering mind
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Not mine, don't touch!
“Make sure that by the time the fisherman returns, you are gone,” Anis Mojgani I’m in editing mode and want to edit this line. It’s not mine. I think the core is beautiful.
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Insert me here
It’s hard getting back into a poem, the kneading required to insert my body, my brain, my vision – the vision that started it, I see it again. This one is green and forested. This one is tangled. I’ll sit in the yard being bit by mosquitoes. Dusk. I need to strip and build, strip and build…
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Biting the skin around my nails
All I can do today is this. My brain is full of syntax. I’m supposed to be doing something else. Work. I’m anxious today – it’s mondaytuesday, feels like Monday and I’m here and my writs starts to hurt immediately, once I wrap it around the mouse – shock therapy. I woke up at 7…
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A night sky turned gray
The illegal fireworks are winding down. In the distance, the popping echoes against the hills. Green and pink flashes. These aren’t professionals, these are fathers on the streets buying hundreds of dollars worth of explosives from trailers in the Volunteers of America parking lot. And next to that is the Bank of America and in…
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A pink-bellied dove waits for a thunder storm
This is as natural as it gets minus the unnatural light. My eyebrows are getting a bit bushy, I think, the left one always sits a bit higher. The eyes – I always see my mother, the pillows under when we smile. When I got my haircut on Friday, she cut off all my highlights.…
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Seeya 26
Tomorrow is my birthday and we’re having a bbq with yard games and beer and sunshine and we’ll be having my birthday bbq into the night and by then we’ll invite the skunks and I haven’t written all day, so this post is stupid and I’ve got nothing – it’s the end of the day…
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The guy selling fireworks lives in a trailer in a parking lot
I open my mouth, an echo. I have so much to do to day and just don’t want to It’s cool and sunny and beautiful out. I want out. Sleep was spotted last night. I felt years every time I woke up. Laying flat, in and out of dreams, I was 49 and Pat still…
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Plucked too soon
My high hopes for a good apricot in the East have been squashed by a pithy, tasteless ball of peach flesh. I miss my mom’s tree in the backyard. Fruit so heavy and plentiful, we could never keep up. The juice on the ground, the ants on the juice, the roots rich, drinking, recycling its…
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A lady asks for another shot of espresso – too much milk
Please stop talking, I’m going to lose this all, words tromping through my brain, the words I’ve been running over on the walk over and rushing to the computer and now you want to know about my weekend and the party, what party oh that party and it was great, good food, nice place, OK…