choirqueer
hurry hurry don't be late. scamper out and through the gate. don't stop to shut it behind you. there isn't time. you better get moving or you'll miss the bus. you run up the driveway, don't step on any cracks, you know the drill. cat scootles across the sidewalk, nearly tripping you, and then you see it. it's small and green and you're the only one who can save it.
i carried the torch out to the porch and stood there with it in my hand. it burned loudly. everyone else on the block had one too. we stood there and looked at one another, silently standing with our arms above our head, showing our blazing torches to the world. check it out, check it out! we're all here lighting this street up together. this is our neighborhood. this is our scene.
the little child stood behind the lemonade booth with a crayoned sign, FIVE CENTS A CUP. an old person walked over. "five cents a cup, eh?" they said with a snicker. "but how much is the lemonade?"
thief of the night, you took away the darkness and now all we have is light
it's too bright
it hurts my eyes, it burns
the planet can't spin, it can only make half-turns
shaking semi-circles through the sky
we said goodbye
pretzels tie themselves in knots. they are tasty, cool or hot. you can dunk them in some sauce. you can share them with your boss. twisty snacky tasty treats. they are good for us to eat. they can be many shapes and sizes. pretzels are such great surprises. i like them soft, i like them hard, i like them inside and in the yard
the arms of vengeance like thorny vines wrap evilly around the throat of the hapless traveler whose only crime against the bloodthirsty tree was looking like the one before who bore the saw that slayed the tree's companion.
in the house the white dress sat on a shelf. it would never get worn, because it would so quickly become grimy that it didn't even seem worth it. day after day it sat sadly in the closet. the pitter patter of little shoes sweeping the freshly mopped floor became its soundtrack, the rhythm of the poor dress's day.
above his ear there was a mole. he had never seen it before the barber cut his hair a little higher up than usual. at first he was amazed she hadn't severed it. after that, he was excited to show it off. when he showed it to me, i detected a bit of embarrassment in his voice. why would you be embarrassed to have a mole?
i feel tempted to retreat when i meant to be present
i run myself out of space, sent into absence
the orbit i banish my globe-trotting tentacles to wash off the skipping spot
know not what i see
know not what i do
i wonder where the time goes when we aren't watching it. i wonder why curious george is so fascinating to small children. i wonder why bananas are yellow. i wonder why the word "curious" sounds so much more entertaining in a british accent. i wonder why "k" sounds catch in your mouth sometimes.
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writing since 2011 · 68 entries · 67 days shown up
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skylighteyesfarrainbehindanotherfaceholdinsidewonderspacenightnowgroundsound