Snake-ish

Today’s draft comes form a bunch of words that fell out into my journal, and recognizing in the middle of writing them that I was writing all around a central image, trying to pen that image into a poem. It’s still an unruly draft, unwilling to arrange itself the way I’d like, but at least I have something like an outline.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedWe walked in the grass near the tan stone borderadmiring the way my mother put her hand to earth,loved this spot into being.In the late April sun, a snake lies on the pathstretched across the stone between the grass and the doordaring us to walk over or around or close into make our way back to the house. Snake in the grass -- just here to catch the Spring sun, warm its cold blood,doing what snakes do.There is no meaning to it.Snake can only be what it is,as it slithers or lunges or strikes,can only shrug its snakeish shoulders and tell you: Snake can only snake. Only warm-blooded fools expect something else.

Links and Things

With encouragement from my wonderful, creative friend Brianne, I am attempting to restart my Instagram with funny little pictures and quotes from works in progress. I’m hoping it will be a soft place to land for a moment while traveling the internets. Check it out if you like: Connected Tissue

(And if you aren’t following Brianne’s Substack, Odyssey of the Body, you really should. But only if you are a human living in a wonderful, breakable body.)