Rinsing the Goddess around my mouth today. Then I swallow. I’m not sure where I fit in in space and time. The mustaches on my cousins pour whiskey into the heart of sunshine. I love to write whatever comes. Trash collectors slam...
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If I could waltz around with my maker, I’d say thank you. I feel your hand on the back of my...
Read MoreLaziness squeezes my hand. After my weeks’ vacation, my pants feel tight around the waist. I do what I always must do to begin any writing: I send the editor packing. I spent too long cleaning. Now there’s not time for all the...
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