"heeey, bud..."

is that for me?

warm sort of chill

usually
it just pulsates
bump bump
bump bump
but today
it shudders
shivers
trembles
and a trickle of
something
a warm sort of chill
runs
down
to
my
toes

driving to Temple

The man on the side of the road is bent over, yielding an old hedge trimmer, hacking at the patches of green grass in the dirt pile at one end of the parking lot. The sun is shining on the white, flowery branches of the trees along the highway; he is leaving behind only tufts of brown deadness, crushed into the limp, dry, earth.

xlerator

i like the way the heat from an automatic hand drier crinkles the skin on my hands like ripples on a pond

tulips in the public garden

i love Boston in the springtime

head
head
shoulder
(knees
and
toes?)

stomach,
lungs
and

heart

mid-run rainstorm - a drabble of 100 words

tiny spires of coldness and hardness pinch the skin on my face, stinging mercilessly, before morphing into cool globs of soothing liquid that well up on the shoulders and forearms of my cotton t-shirt. mascara pools in my lashes, streaks down my cheeks. sweat and water run into my mouth, tasting agonizingly pure and marvelously primitive at the same time. the beat of sneakers on asphalt synchronizes with the rush of wind and the patter and splat of raindrops on the ground.

the cares of the world rush out the soles of my feet and away down the heaven-stained street.


"tonight she's out to lose herself..."