When her voice leaves her
body, recorded, it’s a
stranger who comes out.
Hearing herself on CD
1
When her voice leaves her
body, recorded, it’s a
stranger who comes out.
Status on Facebook:
“Watching CSPAN.” Many like
seeing sausage made.
She’s coming home, train
speeding through the heartlands, back
to where we miss her.
A small indulgence:
nibs, inkwells, hand writing in
a click to print world.
Cut pin stitch fabric
stretch confines of clothing to
become catwalk art.
Hands on hip, baby,
sketchbook. Diapering, drawing,
birthing creation.
She may have faults but
to me she’s flawless, a me
I wish I could be.
Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.
Like green periscopes
tiny shoots peer from muddy
beds searching for sun.
Night pushed back, a dark
blanket kicked aside as the
sun stays wide awake.