Hi all, I’ve turned a new leaf in life that will undoubtedly contribute to my happiness and productivity. Creative writing is certainly my calling, but it’s been a long time since I’ve derived pleasure from my passion. After struggling with the idea that I don’t have to be miserable all the time, I’ve decided to … Continue reading Wharved’s Constant Influence
Tender mother sleep lulls us speechless– childhood mirrors bathe us for hours in tangerine shadows, whisked by fragrance and pebbled with gray area. We trip through a hole in the floor nary an inch wide, but big enough to engulf us once and forever in haze and old-timey rhetoric. Argyle suits beckon us further, to … Continue reading Tender Mother Sleep
It’s not right to have a sack of potatoes for a leg. Pick another vegetable, something less starchy with more fiber and vitamin C. Our audience will identify with a bundle of curly kale or a jicama pile, preferably one on top of the other on top of the other.
If you’re ever gonna tell me that taking risks is wrong, then tell me before I jump from this plane. I’m fairly certain that the chance of my life ending is higher at this moment than it’s ever been, and you’re just standing there with a camera and grinning like a moron. Why did you … Continue reading Fan with Two Feet
How far have I come in my life? Is that a question to be regarded with a forlorn countenance in the bathroom mirror after a fortieth birthday party, or am I going to reverse the incurable ill that sent me flying past a hospital’s third story window the minute before I was to be born … Continue reading Bathroom Mirror
I like that declaration of something being done for the sole purpose of its completion and nothing else– you know, the castle made of fragrant taco meat defended by French toast molecular structures blown up to be visible to the naked eye and smelled by none other than the Duke of Prunes.
Nothing quite like a dangling resolution to soil one’s party–ants, no. Ants have no picnics to ruin today, or any other day. They just meander onto your blanket in search of easy sustenance. Do they know they’re not meant to take from your first-world bounty? Of course not. Poor buggers, they are.
Benny the Bungler bought stock much too low, and he’s up to his eyebrows in money. It’ll only take time for his fortune to fade, and his hairline to go with it too.
Competition smoked in a quarter of a mile or something like that, though I can’t say for sure how many penguin daisies it takes to screw in a lightbulb. I fail to see the point of penguin daisies even wanting artificial light– their habitat has absolutely no fabrication of any kind, so how do you … Continue reading Absolutely No Fabrication
Noxious fumes have got a grip on me– there’s no mistaking a fatal odor for a month-old egg salad. Oh, apparently there is. Thank you, Earl Tupper, for living your dream and letting us forget about leftovers for a while until they turn color or at least grow fur.
It’s a marvelous thing to behold with one’s eyes the improper correction of tests; there’s red ink all around and a frenzy of penstrokes laying waste to this charming little office, sprayed every day.
The triple sec bandit strikes again, just as Johnny and his chainsmoke gang prepare for Margarita Monday, that alco-holiest of days.
Let me just say that I think NaPoWriMo was a success this year. Now, before you go telling me that 12 poems can’t possibly constitute a good month according to my previous work and typical productivity, I can assure you that I wrote a hell of a lot more than that. And also, why would … Continue reading Happy May Day Hangover!
Benny the Bootlicker stepped aside once more with humility, the only thing he ever really had. This time he lost a pie-eating contest to that bozo two counties over. After all the face-stuffing and side-splitting, Benny gave up another half-written dream.