blurb

"Gossamer Girl in Garden"


I try to thread the pieces together. Make the string stick. But mud keeps getting stuck in my teeth, in my jaws. I spend my days eating dirt, oranges—pick the ants off the pits of my knees. Passersby’s tell me to start making mandalas, tell me it will be better if I just echo the stars. I am in no mood to listen to the dead. I listen to white ladies debate other white ladies about the effectiveness of sun block. I listen to panting dogs, to cigarettes hitting the sidewalk, of fucking and sucking. I wish I could grow spinnerets out of my ass and weave these pieces together. I try but shit just comes out instead.




Comments: Just kind of rolled this out in a few minutes. Not really sure how to end it--I don't really like that last line. I started to get more graphic with scatological references, but it just seemed too trite. I suppose this is my teen girl emo post? "Dear Journal, Mood: Pathetic"