Monday, July 19, 2010


The prickly feet of every tiny, inky word wills me to spit them all out
But the string of preservation tugs
And I close my mouth.
The tap-dancing words shuffle on my tongue until I swallow them
(scraping and rolling and coiling to the boxing match on the floor of my stomach)
In one big gulp.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Get It?

Do you ever feel like you could explain yourself 'til your brain turns inside out and yet people just won't get it?