a place for zinesters - writers and readers
Begin here. I set my thermostat to 82 degrees, and listen to my daughter breathe at night.
It is an odd thing to miss you. The stillness that I feel inside myself has a quality that I cannot name. Now it’s bitter. Now it’s sweet. The taste is all iron and cardamom deep inside my mouth.
It’s been a strange year.
All summer long, I drank and drank. And drank. Thirsty Thursdays on the Blue Ox…Continue
Added by Gabrielle Congrave on April 15, 2013 at 9:48am — No Comments
this house smells like old coffee
and something else-
some cross between dirty
and dinners i let burn
... before i threw away.
i am rarely there; i leave
the windows open all day
everyday. walk through the door.
vanish into bed each night.
Added by Gabrielle Congrave on April 15, 2013 at 9:43am — No Comments