High Roads

Pieces of poems this week:


What is your battle cry, as you swing off the shoulder of Orion?

I bite my tongue when I dangle from his belt: cry, cry, cry


I made poems from your leftovers.

Scooping them onto plates,

no one took a bite.

Sometimes you can’t make the old

new again.


My brother stopped in for a few on his way home from France. I fed him Chick Fil A and we talked about how awesome it was that he stumbled upon the diner en blanc (the white party) that happens once a year in Paris. He snapped a picture for me the night he saw it. I’ve wanted to go to that dinner for years, so I’m happy he was able to sneak in on my behalf.

MD is up in Nashville for the summer and this is the week where I feel lost. Typically the first week I do, wandering around from room to room tidying up and what not. My internal clock is still a little off after coming back from California too. Or maybe that’s from me staying up till two am reading and watching HGTV. Probably the latter.  California was the best family vacation and was much needed. I marked everything I wanted to do off my list! I’d put up a more extensive post about it, but eh. I made sure to take the time to soak in the beauty of everything I saw. Leaving MD in charge of the camera, I only pulled out my phone to take a few pics myself.

Live in the moment.

In the meantime, I’ve realized that I would not survive a zombie apocalypse as a farmer. My garden was eaten up by birds and who knows what else. Red peppers, kale and basil are still doing well though. I guess even bugs have their favorites when it comes to food. Punks.

Enough filler.

I’m going back to listening to college radio while I lay on the couch.

It’s extremely peaceful. I highly recommend it.



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