Perched on the end of faded green roughened seesaw.
Roughened by sand poured over the board.
I went up and down, then suddenly stopped.
Stopped in midflight by a girl child turned woman.
She said, “Here I am!” with her eyes.
She made the sand feel solid.
Hey Man, this weird thing happened yesterday down at the vegetable stand I own. When they fertilized the field in back of my stand, the field flooded. The water rushed into a hole in back of the cabbage bin. Man, was I bummed out when I saw that! I didn’t want to throw away the…
Should I write a story with big words that pays big money? Or, should I write this story that is worth only five cents but makes sense to me?
Why do we gripe, comparing shadows? The shadow is past. Why choose to live in a shadow? I want to tan with the richness of sunlight.
Why do we scratch our heads when we can’t figure something out? Are we simply buying time? Signalling that we are clueless? Or, do we think we’ll shake our brains a bit, and the information we are looking for will fall out?
What is fame to you? How would you know if you were famous? What would that do for you personally, if you were famous? What would it represent? Mean? How big an area would you have to be famous in to be satisfied? Does the itch to be famous ever stop, have boundaries, or just…
VACUUM SUCKS You know those little things in the carpet that try to hide? When you vacuum “hide and seek” becomes “hide and suck.” If you have a cheap vacuum, vacuuming becomes a hockey game. The goalie is under the mat. The cheaper the vacuum, the bigger the mat. As a kid I used to…
“Girl-child turned woman”–this is the phrase the poem turns on. All your images show the awakening of sexuality within the context of innocence. “She made the sand feel solid” is a moment of awakening.