i read the wind. the words color me in shades of scented gardenias. the words take to the clouds, and write their sex song. i
the moon waits for me. i become the terpsichorean, naked, fragile, unclothed in darkness. my hips are my cauldron. i stir. i stir for the
I am lost in thoughts that I do not own.
Our peach tree is really coming along nicely. Each day the peaches get brighter and fuller. I’m excited and can’t wait until they fully mature so I can begin to eat them. Like this:Like Loading…
what a peach was originally published on zaji what a peach was originally published on zaji
I am halfheartedly searching for a road back to Earth. The other half of my heart seeks a quiet world.
Writing Prompt: Whisper Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Most of what I write is an experiment where I allow words
The poem below by Frost is the life I’ve always lived, the road less traveled. It keeps me sane, even as it sometimes leaves me
I won’t be saved by you. Only the sky can save me from this blue world wondering how it came to be.
I read this piece by Yeats recently and it struck a cord. The Lake Isle of Innisfree W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939 I will
Someone called me today, a loved one. She said she was lonely. But I am too far away to just show up on her doorstep and take her out so we can run the streets like school girls. I could hear it in her voice, the loneliness she tried to conceal behind laughter as she…
the potential for loneliness was originally published on zaji
The days meld into each other. Each one a link in a chain. The chain slowly reaching into the distance. This is our lives, each
Photograph by zaji This was the sky over my house yesterday. Such a beautiful sight. The sky is a constant reminder of my mortality. When
Every now and then a bit of beauty falls onto my lap and reminds me that there just might be a pinhole of hope for
Photographer Unknown It was the mid 80s. I was 18 years old. I was working at a local video store renting out videos for a Prince height Italian man whose accent betrayed his birthplace, which was clearly not Italy. He was a Bronx born Italian, who mixed Americanized Italian with yiddish insults. When I didn’t…
my first and last was originally published on zaji
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