New posts up at Single Mom at Work. Yea, verily, readeth. Commenteth with love. ‘Tis the season to not be a know-it-all bitch or pompous f**khead.
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From the category archives:
New posts up at Single Mom at Work. Yea, verily, readeth. Commenteth with love. ‘Tis the season to not be a know-it-all bitch or pompous f**khead.
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Give thanks to your Lord
as you wait on the corner
in your ski mask
for your next assignment.
Under the mailbox, you will
find a paper bag holding
smooth, heavy stones.
Your favorite. [read more...]
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Crikey. I had forgotten what a bad case of stage fright I always get. It kicks in fully eight hours before the performance, won’t let up. I am always convinced I am a few seconds away from terminal dysentery, or all of my teeth falling out at once. They get tingly and I have to [...]
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try as i might i cannot
connect there to here.
[read more...]
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i am neither above
nor below this ink.
i wake up to it and
mark it all day and
night. forward.
like you,
icelandia
will have me and i
will have it.
[read more...]
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1. You do not question the logic of the following statement: “She’s holding a monkey in her profile picture, so they MUST still be dating.” 2. You turn your head to tell someone about the monkey, then realize that the only creature who is dimly aware that you are even breathing at this very second [...]
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From the creeping Ferris Wheel
I see stars in commotion,
wanting in on the action below
[more]
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I try to console myself with the fact that I don’t need to change my name back to Mattern. And if I have any single friends left who like me enough to ask me to be their Maid of Honor someday soon, I can be a Maid of Honor again, instead of a Matron of Honor.
But I will still want to cover my upper arms with an unfortunate wrap. That’s just 40 for you.
Even Julia had some upper-arm jiggle going on.
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outside fat rain smacks
the bully AC. i rise
dog eyes plead not now
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The ocean is a bowl, you say. Freshwater is just passing through, always on its way to somewhere.
Even a lake? I ask, knowing I should know better, knowing that I do, in fact, know, somewhere
inside this cluttered head. Yes, even a lake, you say. Think about it, it comes from somewhere
and the water is always passing through, headed somewhere.
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