Invisible Threads

 

 

"Hi my pretty Mama", he says.

And slips his little hand into mine.

The same hand that bravely holds giant bugs,

and exuberantly picks his nose.

 

And I can't help but weep

Cause once upon a time,

mine was the little hand holding.

 

There are invisible threads attached to everything.

Charlie Todd: The shared experience of absurdity

Sometimes its nice to have company at night while I am folding laundry.  This was good company!

Raw

 



words these days

all sticky in my belly

censored

by exhaustion

and politeness

maybe emptiness

 

when said I wanted to be raw

I think I misunderstood myself

 

 

 

For the Birds