"April 8th"

Series: Winter 2010-11, or The Winter that almost took my life (not hyperbole)

2. After the last 6 months
I now take my coffee black

"April 7th"

Series: Winter 2010-11, the Winter that nearly took my life (not hyperbole)

1. I am stranded on the side
of the curb my legs give
out from under me as the
weight of my world gets
to be too much.

"April 6th"

Whoops....

I am now playing NaNoWriMo catchup, blame a Monster Migraine and a chronic pain illness that put me out of commission for awhile.

Girls are sexy if they take down their ponytail and take off their glasses

I know you thought me wild once
before talking to me
or realizing that my mysterious
bulky sweatshirt
is just one in a long line in my closet
and my "sorry I'm busy tonight"
isn't crazy parties, a club but
rather sitting at home (in my
bulky sweatshirt) watching
Law and Order:SVU marathons
on USA

Annnd April 5!

Dillema

Every Thursday there is a sale on flowers at the grocery store by my house

Which means the following Wednesday there are dead flowers in my house

I should really stop this viscous cycle.

But then again, it’s Thursday and I am out of milk.

April 4 entry

Didn't get to post yesterday, so here is April 4th:

Plasma Donation

20,000 people. the population of a city flowing inside my veins

working together to make the unit whole, to make my body a nice place to live

as it once was

after all, it takes a viliage

Again, I am going to stress that these are all first draft poems. I don't like to edit the same day I write:)

Feeling Kumbaya-like Today

The world wasn’t made for a teacup

to be steeped in warmth and consumed by all

adding sugar and lemon to sweeten the taste

making the slightly bitter mouthful more palatable.

the world wasn’t made to be a train

barreling down the lonely stretches

from point A to B

No, the world was made for that smile and wave

from a friend across the street

the world was made to curl up with a warm puppy

a living, breathing, shedding foot warmer

the world was made for you and me to find one another

against all odds

I think I am annoyed at Blogspot formatting

Skeleton Dance

Charon takes the novelty scooper and slides the seeds out of the smile of the jack-o-lantern face.

the autumn wind rushes and jingles the bones of the skeletons waiting outside, they hold their visible breath in the autumn air which hovers for a moment

and disappears

true to their form, they hang onto their story for dear life

the harvest moon mocks the dying husks in the fields as the door opens

they hold their breath

Charon sets another jack-o-latern out in time to pick another from the field.