I take this 3/4 way earth-turn into myself and wring the beauty from it into my soul. I curl in my cozy short grey sweater and drink coffee and tea and apple cider. The Finch Arboretum is probably getting ready for its fall festival.
My blue-veined hands and the surface folds of my mind contradict each other with my writing.
A million words, I've probably written, all in preparation for the novel I will someday write. I've found my brother-in-words: Brock Cole, father of Celine, my favourite book in the world. I love every sentence, I love every new paragraph. It makes me run and jump. It makes me want to write about how the kittie brings gutty mouse-presents to the door when I'm wearing white jeans and white shoes.
Oh, and I must save my little cousin from the female zombie. I thought I had her locked up in the closet nice and fine, but it seems she has gotten out.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
1 comment:
Welcome to posting a comment on my blog; I thank you for clicking here and I'm sure we will be fast friends if we aren't already, since I love people who comment. But I don't really like people who nit-pick my blog. That tends to get nowhere with me except to make me first laugh, then blush, and finally growl. Not to mention it doesn't make the nit-picker look particulary good either. However, if you would really like to nitpick, email me at cierrawrites@gmail.com. I may or may not reply, but I'll always love you since you commented anyway. Alright, comment away!
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Yay! Back and better than ever, I see, Cierra. Hurrah!
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