Posts Tagged: relationship

Weeds

It goes like this:  You start out standing next to each other in a green green field lit by a white gold sun – spring is beginning.  Just the gossamer edges of your Personal Space Bubbles brush up against each

Weeds

It goes like this:  You start out standing next to each other in a green green field lit by a white gold sun – spring is beginning.  Just the gossamer edges of your Personal Space Bubbles brush up against each

Blue Morphos

Fred and Ethel are fighting again.  Studio laughter fills the pauses in their exchange as Ethel explains why she’s come home wearing a curly red wig (Lucy needed a stand in at Café Babalu), but Fred is just not having

Blue Morphos

Fred and Ethel are fighting again.  Studio laughter fills the pauses in their exchange as Ethel explains why she’s come home wearing a curly red wig (Lucy needed a stand in at Café Babalu), but Fred is just not having

You

Shut up. Words are useless.  They come out of us like dust, moved here and there in neat piles that sit and wait to be swept up, or get blown around again by rushing feet and muddy paws.  You say

You

Shut up. Words are useless.  They come out of us like dust, moved here and there in neat piles that sit and wait to be swept up, or get blown around again by rushing feet and muddy paws.  You say

Butterflies (1 of 3 part workshop series)

Fred and Ethel were fighting again.  Studio laughter filled the pauses between their snapping syllables as Ethel explained why she’d come home wearing a curly red wig (Lucy needed a stand in at Café Babalu), but Fred was just not

Butterflies (1 of 3 part workshop series)

Fred and Ethel were fighting again.  Studio laughter filled the pauses between their snapping syllables as Ethel explained why she’d come home wearing a curly red wig (Lucy needed a stand in at Café Babalu), but Fred was just not

Morphings

She sits, feet tucked, on sinking couch, socks overstretched from unchanged days. She pulls at lint, the dust of time on her nine to five pajama suit. Thinking that to make a sandwich would mean to move, and break the

Morphings

She sits, feet tucked, on sinking couch, socks overstretched from unchanged days. She pulls at lint, the dust of time on her nine to five pajama suit. Thinking that to make a sandwich would mean to move, and break the