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November 25, 2010

Fortunate

I. I can’t get his words from my mind. Not all of us are blessed with a Tink. You are a fortunate soul, Angi Sullins. Fortunate. Yet I sting. I sting with the memory of her body in my arms. Pierced by a rattle snake seized by a heart attack, her back arched in a sudden and violent spasm, her bladder voiding on my red tshirt in the final moments of release, the inevitable collapse against my chest as her spirit flew away. She left me in the purple of twilight in the silence of the first stars. No warning […]
March 7, 2012

Aimless Love – an Exercise

“But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod ready for the next arrow.” — Billy Collins, “Aimless Love” Aimless Love, An Exercise I’ve borrowed this writing prompt from brilliant author Cate DiCamillo, who was inspired to create this writing exercise based on the Billy Collins poem. I find it a shining portal to imagining. My answers are below, but if you’d like to play along, here’s how it goes: Imagine your heart as a target in a field. Begin by describing the field. Describe the tripod. Describe your heart. Name the arrows. Describe the sound the […]
May 1, 2013

Ten Years Drunk

“you surround me” “you complete me” “you had me at hello” fuck that shit it’s as simple as this: your soul looked like a plate of chocolate chip cookies wrapped up in devils cake with whipped cream and a side of orgasm i didn’t nibble politely and push away from the table no i scarfed you up scrumptious shoved face first into your deliciousness til my chin and my whole life looked like an ad for slutty betty crocker i feasted on your fairy tale and reveled in your never lands til the insides of my mouth were raw and […]
March 7, 2014

Matchstick Box

My heart is a diamond matchstick boxfull of lightning flowersbright-blossom incendiarypetalsstrike me and Iburst into bloom.My heart is a moonpearl nautilus, endless chambered spiral circle, ancient siren song embedded in ever-widening circles cradled to your ear it whispers a low tide of hush-now lullaby. My heart is a feathered faraway bird a phoenix rising fierce and free Burn me. Blaze me. Bury me in the ashes and I rise a wounded healer, a trail of glory, my tears the balm that soothes, the medicine that mends, the song that calls us home. My heart is a Rose of Sharon, opening, opening a […]