smoke signals
In liminal space
words don’t always work
hands where I can see them
drop those nouns and verbs.
propelled by giddy uncertainty
I’m navigationally challenged
to say the least.
I’ll build a map of glorious contradictions
to get from there
to here.
adjectives and adverbs
make poor smoke signals
biting my lip
to keep careworn cliches
from tumbling out.
tracing the sea of points
that punctuates your shoulders
the shortest distance
between any two given places
isn’t always straight
nor uncomplicated.
Happy Pride!
And what did we learn from this? Never tag your flickr picture “tits.” No matter how much it ups your view count, it’s not worth it.
On a side note: apparently I have the knowledge to be considered a Professional in Human Resources, or at least pass the stupid exam. I would’ve thought that my gratuitous overuse of “that’s what she said,” would keep me from being considered a professional anything, but apparently that has no bearing on my ability to pass a standardized test. Anyhow: woot.
elements
I haven’t been feeling much like writing lately. I know that creativity comes in waves so I’m just trying to roll with it.
folly
all aboard my folly
hands shaking, stomach churns
it never gets easier
jackhammer knuckles
paper-bag lungs
caution tape mouth
no one has to wonder
where they stand
with me
unsustainable
tiptoeing around the bush
or beating on eggshells
brashness is a vice
I’m unrepentant
I refuse
to be seen and not heard.
Where am I?
Studying for my PHR. That’s pronounced “PHArrrrghhh!” Well okay, that’s a lie, but it probably should be.
