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Connecting Sentences Out of the Blue
Dear Diary, It’s hard to discern your knocking from mine when my hands are numb from banging on your windows, begging you to let me in again when the clouds start to obstruct the solid blue sky. I find my mind sneakily stringing vivid words together again as you reluctantly pose as my canvas. Even after I sat you down, harsh words written on your skin, brilliantly worded divorce papers…
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As an Artist, I’m on an Alphabet Soup Diet, and I Am Starving
As an artist, I’m on an alphabet soup diet, and I am starving. I chew and swallow, but the letters get stuck on the way down, caught in a tangle of run on sentences that wraps tighter witheach question mark I dot. The lifting of a spoon to my cracked lips animates my taste buds, but it simultaneously becomes harder to speak through the growing mush of action verbs in…