Cherry

I don’t know what it means to be in the premiership

But I like the patter of the man selling flags and whistles, and the way the window wobbles when the happiness gets too crowded. I don’t know what it means to be in the premiership,
Poem of the week

Souvenir from Mexico

Papi opened his palm And offered me a lollipop. And I, timid as a new-born cactus Yet without spears, accepted. And I took it in my mouth Without knowing what it was.

Salt On The Wound

Like salt Once stab It Burns Too bad It hurts To know The place Quite mad No cut Makes worse Or course More terse Then knowing All terrible Deeds Traversed Is pie In the sky

THE CHOSEN ONES ( PART SIXTY SIX )

Families reunite.

Working World

Now I watch from this one window As the ordinary world passes by. It doesn’t seem to need me now, Managing quite well on its own. Its days can start and dress themselves

THE CHOSEN ONES ( PART SIXTY FIVE )

Family come together.
Cherry

Let's start again

Competition Entry

Incident In Muttontown

thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife

daymare 15

“You want me? well fucking well come and find me I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches And nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.” -from talk show host, by radiohead

Never grown up

My tiny fingers hold on so tight, as my mother kisses me good night, and the light in the corner keeps me from the dark, the endless joy of bouncing in my airplane, which my parents hung

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