Tina pinched my cheeks red, Jody called me stupid, and Carol threw my headband up onto the porch. All I had to do once they left was climb up and reach for it between the wooden posts. That was the easy part.
Entradas con "Translation" disponen de versión castellana.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
At the end of it all, James and I position ourselves on the bridge. We gauge the rapids. Cabal is barking from his perch on Devil’s Rock. Whoever reaches it first has claim to him. On the count of three, we jump.
Friday, December 5, 2014
This poem of mine is set in the middle of a beautiful issue of Synaesthesia Magazine.
#6 THUNDER, LIGHTNING went live today. Go visit it.
Hear that? That's THUNDER, LIGHTNING.... http://t.co/bI4UKxieri
— Synaesthesia Mag (@SynaesthesiaMag) December 4, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Of course it’s clear now. Bull-headed, know-it-all me never wavered. Still. Couldn’t they put out a manual, or some sort of notice? I was ready for backtalk, missed curfews, but bellybutton piercing? A tramp stamp? I might’ve thought twice about that cesarean.