Tag: sand
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Dirt
When I was one of those kids teachers talk about after everybody’s left for the day, digging in the dirt was the only thing that made me feel clean enough to inhabit. So there I was, in the grasses behind our back yard, with just my feet sticking out of the earth my cupped little […]
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Cracks
My problem is that living is what interests me. Like, do these words I tumble, simply grind down versions of me into an indiscernible place where I can’t ever find myself counting on the light to crash on, or is it my duty as a human being, with language always in some part, revolving me […]
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Cavern
When I was a kid I played in the sand at the side of the road with ants I thought wouldn’t mind being relocated to an empty Tic Tac container. I became a sort of ant myself, watching the tunnels slowly appear behind this peppermint scented, clear, plastic home most throw out. I dug down […]
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Train
One place I used to retreat to when I was a kid was under our mobile home on a bed of sand where I listened to spiders making noises and imagined I’d found an ancient tomb in some exotic place and to this day this is how I think about my own thinking whenever I […]
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Headlights
My imagination has always been a little library of worry, where I drift from room to room observing the imaginary goings on in an attempt to not only predict what might happen should I not change, but garner some knowledge as to how to behave in waking life. So why wouldn’t I think they’ve always […]
the real subject is always you 