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Bad Poetry

I crouched under the sun
Sat back low in the long grass
Got slowly covered in layer after layer of dirt
sifting gently over my skin
like curtains in a lazy breeze

Today I sit in my ergonomic foam chair
Being bathed in fluorescent light
Straining for a glimpse of blue sky through the office across the hall

I weeded a bed of oregano and thyme
“How will I know if I’m pulling the right thing?” I asked
then spent the next hour
rolling leaves between the pads of my fingers
and smelling my fingertips
marveling at my toolbox body
good for so many things

Today I collate report after report
And the only thing the pages smell like under my fingers
Is toner

The biggest hornet I’ve ever seen
flew in drunk circles
like a helicopter going down
Furry spiders
ran for the folds in the fabric
of the ground tarp I was rolling up
A praying mantis
acted like a twig
until the cricket got close enough

And all of us city kids ooh-ed and ahh-ed
Because we knew that Today
All that would be left
is the ache in the deep-backs of my legs
And the grit
way up under my fingernails
that I didn’t scrub hard enough to get out
maybe on purpose.
Got the pic here.


Next stop? Photo editing software.


I think the palm trees make it look like some exotic Moroccan villa, don't you?



So this weed walks into an alley...


Shutter Speed. ISO. Aperture. Do these things excite you as they do me?

Creative Writing Assignment

Today's assignment is from The Detail Collector, my absolute favorite blog find of the past few months. She asks her readers to Share 3 Details. Stop by her blog to see the format I'm honoring.

1. street festival on the one grey day of summer
smiling brown band playing flutes and hand drums
knees bending together
kids and one crazy old black man dancing
people clap in rhythm
hands in your pockets
low profile, you sway side to side

2. hands on the smalls of each other’s backs
pat pat, you lean in for a picture, smile, pull apart
hands still on each other
fingers drumming to qualify the touch

3. sitting in the curved window on the street
feeling like a museum exhibit
you bring me a bowl of pickle spears
pale watery green seeds stuck to silver curves
I ask for apple pie and coffee
you have neither
settle for twirling tomato slices in vinaigrette
merlot in a sturdy glass
while one blue balloon
loosed, floats up
just like it knows it should.
Got the image here.


My favorite places to shoot in DC are alleyways. Hands-down.


Do you ever feel like your toothbrushes are trying to tell you something?

(me neither. that would be weird.)