Jet Propulsion

She sent me spinning, gave me dreams of centipedes and long, dizzy trips round red rocks, and threw me over clover cliffs. Symphonic oboes bleated cacophony from her little baby 'goodbyes.' Velvet bits of skies draped my eyes, rubbed blue, violet, and traffic cone orange across my horizon, mummified me, and twirled me topside over. Mysterious salty-sweet sensations slid along my lips. I craved water and she dangled it before me. Every time I reached she spun me round -- and reach and round and reach and round and reach. One last flip and flat on my backside I landed in a sit. She was gone. My head still spun though my body sat still. All around me flitted down velvet bits of a newly flipped sky.

Doodle Game #1

Our souls feel awful sticky

Like bubble gummy icky

Clinging to the bottoms of our shoes

Found a quarter but it's a nickel

You're acting something fickle

For someone playing Candyland to lose.

Abbey Inn

A pink petal fell from her fingers and drifted to the untended grass below. She eyed its descent thinking momentarily of reaching, but opting to not. She preferred peach to pink. Peter often challenged her discernment between the two, especially in petals. Those times she preferred Paul to Peter.