#extradirty
if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap
oozey mess
DEAR READER
we're not kids anymore.
Xuebing Du
Sweet Seals For You, Always
blake kathryn
Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Monterey Bay Aquarium
art blog(derogatory)
NASA
roma★
KIROKAZE
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
trying on a metaphor
Kiana Khansmith
seen from France
seen from Algeria
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Paraguay
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
@hshuppsalas
rumination on the day by me
rumination on the day by me
beneath the introverted rock too soon intruded upon that i might unearth the jolly beetles’ frolic there, and catapulting memory with hearty thrust to those roly-poly days of childhood where innocence had even its very own smell– and so. a sudden, bitter-sweet whiff –it is there. atop that bossomy tree I no longer climb whose view has…
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Tsk, Tsk, Tsk (Chapter 1?)
Tsk, Tsk, Tsk (Chapter 1?)
Tsk, Tsk, Tsk (Chapter 1?).
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Tsk, Tsk, Tsk (Chapter 1?)
Soft. Compliant as a contact lens, they must have been when he was a baby. He probably nibbled at his toenails with wet, pink, nubby gums; fondled them with fingernails just as soft, just as compliant. But tsk, tsk, tsk….how Life can play the Jokerman, His humor matched only by His wicked synergy and so what was once soft becomes, often, layered crusts of punch line; what was once compliant…
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Epistle
Epistle.
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Epistle
19 april 2015 sweetest cara: through an open door, this morning’s cool whisper seeks me at my table and finds me. it is limp to my seduction of the day. yet who beacons whom? is it i who tempt the breeze through the doorway or is it the breeze who draws the indoors out, always, ever, reaching through Memory for the once seamlessness of Eden’s man and leaf? the tender tweet of the finch now…
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For My Mother and Sisters
For My Mother and Sisters
lady in a hat now you top that! though “dashing” and “dapper” might follow him, nothing quite captures the whimsy and whim, (some maybe unwieldy; some maybe too prim)
of the lady at once so punctilious and bold with an eye for beauty and a heart of gold (some have been bartered, and some have been sold)
she might be a princess or an alley cat but today she’s beguiling, bewitching, and PHAT, (thou…
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light and shadow and light
light and shadow and light
light and shadow and light.
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light and shadow; shadow and light
light and shadow and light
light and shadow and light
[STROPHE]
day 1
I. once just pigpen’s nimbus; the quieter,
the more severe shade (of the still-life apple’s peripheral paint)—
i. [to the “beam of the sun”]
always from this catbird seat view,
density heeds shadow (an advantageous slant) —
[ANTISTROPHE]
II. soon a rorsharch of dust wiped from the soul’s feet—
negative-space…
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cooking for a clown
cooking for a clown
When Heinrich Böll asks me what I’ll cook for dinner, I am muted by paralysis, so I stumble and slur. I, who am otherwise known as a woman of incision. I survey our friends, who say: “he favors a sweet tooth chuckle”; “a teary, savory saltlick.” I sift wheat berries, amber hops, and rationed coffee grains– crack the skin of their husks.
For all this, I drag myself, preemptorily exhausted, into…
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Exposed by my children for what I really look like
Originally posted on Bridgette Tales:
Flipping through the pictures on my phone, I see it.
My first reaction is shock. Who took this hideous picture of me?
Self-loathing and disgust swell up and threaten to bring me to tears.
Just as I am about to hit delete, my boy walks in the room.
“Do you know anything about this picture?” I ask him.
I turn the screen so he can see it. He smiles huge.
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the character line (after rick barot)
the character line (after rick barot)
it turns out there’s a difference between a detail and an image. if the ripple on the river is mere detail, the ripples impuned on a woman’s body are an image because they vanish only when she covers them,
even when a sweater veils the oscillating, recurrent annual rings on an accordion neck. the same way that the pink ribbon on the front of another woman’s sweater is just a detail until you see…
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the character line (after rick barot),
the character line (after rick barot),
it turns out there’s a difference between a detail and an image. if the ripple on the river is mere detail, the ripples impuned on a woman’s body are an image because they vanish only when she covers them,
even when a sweater veils the oscillating, recurrent annual rings on an accordion neck. the same way that the pink ribbon on the front of another woman’s sweater is just a detail until you see…
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holy moment
holy moment
“this is A Holy Moment, child. witness it!” she has been taught.
communion with God rescues from hell, an open window she escapes through at night.
but holiness happens tomorrow, after she dreams it hard enough, holiness sleeps in, creeps in sleep, sustenance. laughter joy love peace– spiral curls, entwine to lift, to buoy her.
her whisper no one believes because no one else hears…
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ship haiku
ship haiku.
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ship haiku
ship haiku.
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ship haiku a boat. until it does not float. then a casket. the ocean a grave. signed, made it!