Winner, winner, chicken dinner,poor old Chuck is not a grinner,destined for the pot to simmer,feels the horror rising in her.
An autobiography Barbara was a barnacle —clingy,sticky,unwilling to get moving.She sat and she stewed andgrew rough around her edges,stuck stubborn amidst high tidesand searing raysand sea storms that blustered for days.She was drowning but her glue didn’t give,howling with the blue of each vicious wave,and in the calm bits,she slouched and stared,daydreamed of fresh waterways.
I’ve been in a months-long creative slump so I’m having a crack at a creative challenge called Alphabet Superset in hopes of getting over it. The plan is to write a silly little animal-themed poem for every silly little letter of the alphabet. Thanks for watching! Transcript and image credits >
I’m writing the things and posting the things but I’m not shouting about them here because I keep forgetting, so here’s a frantic rundown of some of the latest nonsense I’ve produced: Don’t Tell Suicidal People They Are Loved (actually not nonsense, but a very thoughtful and carefully crafted article about how to help people […]