Month: September 2015

Holy F*ck, I have a book.

I have a book. It’s sitting on the desk next to me. I can touch it, and fondle it, and smell it. When I open it I recognize the words because I wrote them. I. Wrote. Them. My name is on the cover because I wrote words, and those words were made into a book.

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Poetry Monday #6 – Poetry in Motion

I was sitting here staring out the window, watching a butterfly.  I wondered if it escaped from a sanctuary nearby.  Butterfly World.  It’s a humid building with exotic flowers and trees, and little pools of water, and butterflies.  They float around your head, they land on your hand.  They ask you not to swat at them,

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