NaPo #22: Hunting
Hunting You see it in a picture, stand on your head, imagine how the walls might meet at that angle though it’s obviously impossible. Impossible, too, that someone deliberately chose that color for the...
View ArticleNaPo #23: Tennis
Tennis The exercise was always in the chase. I think the yellow fuzz hid eyes and legs that helped the balls skip underneath the fence and skitter down the street. My mother sighed and listed on her...
View ArticleNaPo #24: Curling
Curling Then you get your feet set right push and glide and the ice rolls out behind you like a satin ribbon and you don’t stop sliding past every line past the walls go clear past the ice and the man...
View ArticleNaPo #25: Nesting
Nesting The cat sits in his basket like a fat hen brooding over eggs. I remember my mother’s complaints about being sent to fetch the eggs each morning, the way the hens would peck. But if I reach my...
View ArticleAudio of Letters of
Recording of NaPo #11: “Letters of” http://www.juliecarter.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Letters-of.mp3
View ArticleNaPo #26: Migraine
Migraine I try to describe the way the kaleidoscope stumbles around the center of my vision like a drunkard and I wonder where my hands are. Wikipedia has an artist’s rendering of auras, oh, forgive me...
View ArticleNaPo #27: Demonstrative
Demonstrative We got an email that there were protestors at the corner, and that explains the traffic weirdness we can see out the window facing the other way. Otherwise, we would be hidden up in our...
View ArticleNaPo #28: And your little red
And your little red My father was a Big Red, but small. He laughed when he said he was on the football team and we all marveled at the shrimpiness of the 50s and his twiggy legs. But his hair was red,...
View ArticleNaPo #29: Whirlygig
Whirlygig I always saw four wings spinning and wondered at the species of bird, butterfly winged (but someone will tell me that butterflies have eight wings, or twenty, or only one) and blue. The cat...
View ArticleNaPo #30: Smaller
Smaller His head is. You can brush the thick fur back to show the line of his jaw, the way his eyes are full of sparking branches and somehow bigger than his TARDIS skull. And my memory is, or...
View ArticleNaPo #27: Clouds
Clouds The sky is closer here. I step outside and through it parting like a silent crowd for an Olympic sprint with flames that died.
View ArticleNaPo #28: Laundering
Laundering 1. He likes the detergent pods, but I wear a shirt after and it smells of swamp or something tidal, dying against my skin. Like a dog chasing my tail I try to turn quickly enough to catch my...
View ArticleNaPo #29: Mock trial
Mock trial I’ll be a witness, someone sobbing out a Perry Mason fantasy of epiphanies, a gasp of “you!” and the music goes dun dun dun, someone should scream, her hand curled shaking around her throat...
View ArticleNaPo #30: Metro
Metro And he sat down on the edge of my jacket, then looked at me startled when I tugged it out, the drag of the zipper odd under his khakied thigh. And then I looked up and his eyes were like does’...
View ArticleBird ID
Terrible pictures, but you can see the tail end of a grey bird with a black tail that is at the far side of the suet feeder, to the left.
View ArticleScorch
Scorch When were we going to call the guy in again with his potional chemicals– some sort of injection to save the leaves? He said it wouldn’t die and he’s right so far. Not dead. Maybe dying. There’s...
View ArticleWithal
Withal The air is often softer here than there. Here, lights expand like helium balloons, each with its own fat cloud of silver air. Here, the trees are unsure when to turn. They ponder on it. There,...
View ArticlePostseason
Postseason When it’s your boys, when they are yours you hope just for them to run off the field with heads high. You hope for nothing but the shininess of pride, the quick gold glitter of no mistakes,...
View ArticleCockatrice
Cockatrice Here is where the pillows are sweet with sweat and hair and the nest of the bed hatches something in the night. This bestiary now, bring in that one to let me be so still.
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