Category: Writing Life
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another chapter
I finished another journal yesterday. Another chapter to close except there’s nothing to close and everything to keep going. I’m on my last gift journal which is amazing to me because I feel like I’ve collected gift journals for years and have never been able to keep up with them, but now I am I’m…
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warm cookies
I want to move forward. I want to eat really warm chocolate chip cookies that are really warm I know I mentioned the warm part, but it’s good to feel warm and I want to feel warm. And I want them to disappear into my mouth and to taste the chocolate and that will be…
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potpourri
I’m watching what I can of the sunrise. Pink swirls, purple cover. ribbons of light cream, there’s the blue undertone. I was greeted by the silhouette of a bird and said good morning, “you’re up early.” A squirrel scampers through the leaves I didn’t rake, but they are keeping my beds and my grass warm.…
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where's the alarm
The radiator whistles like it’s being attacked by a bear. I had dreams I was rebuilding something, a hammock even though a perfectly good hammock already existed, I was rebuilding the frame, connecting all the pieces, taking them out of the box, laying them on the wet grass and putting them back together again. I…
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a day of mope
When the sun rose behind the red tree in the backyard I noticed how muted everything looked. This morning I couldn’t see much color in the world. The sky was a soft pink, a light white blue. The grass shaded gray, the red tree caught in a silhouette. I got up early to write –…
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whatever you are looking for
“Whatever you’re looking for in other people, you already have in yourself.” My dear friend said this to me last night at a smoky bar called the saloon. The building is 96 years old, deep dark wood. Green and yellow hues. It’s an old mining bar with a piss trough built right into the floor…
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I need…
I need to get back here. I’m starving. I’m green. I’m sprouting springs buds from the skin under my nails. I don’t care that it’s fall, that it rains, that winter will come. will always come. I don’t eat. This fills me more. My attention span shorter these days as the days. I read my…
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quiet
It’s a mysterious day. There’s a conversation on my desk from the night before. From two people I’ve never seen. The night people. I’m thinking they are telling me something, that I should listen. “I want to leave early. So what can I do now?” The list of items to check, to clean, to refill.…
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The rain
Today is a day of excess. I can’t even see the lines the water is so deep. I’ve become a bird flying in the sea to catch fish, a woman who can’t walk in her own heels. Water is coming out of places I didn’t know water could come out of. Drunk in undercover garages,…
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crafting a poem
A poem is really crafted in the editing process. I hate knowing this. I hate knowing its true. I’m at a very discouraging part of the editing process. All I have are bits of unpoems. words on a page. cliched words on a page no less. I want to throw them all away and start…