The kiss just went and paused and went like the rocking of a ship and the whimpering of old oak as seawater eased its way around slopes of this hovering boat. It was a tree. A tree with such a magnificent bend over us and our stories that my eyes carved out a lullaby and a sailor’s girl and a seabird. And so goes the commerce of nuance, it is easy and it breathes and grows and goes. Like all those horses I see in brushstrokes and wood grains always shuffling hooves and flaring noses, trotting playfully, eating and watching, over our bed as we sleep and dream separately of the arcane that we felt in the bends.
The Great Poetic Testing of Hypotheses. It's a big red bow of ticker tape. You can see humanity in its eyes as you approach it with your overlarge scissors at the grand reopening of "I was just taking a personal call in a goddamn phone booth and the motherfucker just shot me in the head." In some weeks and months and days you will find that, indeed, you are dead. I am Jess. I am an English Creative Writing Student at the University of Iowa. Ask me stuff. Be interested, be interesting.
Theme by Monique Tendencia
