Fiction author • Dog mom • Castaway
1:00 The scent of rain hangs heavy in the air. Catlike, shivering, you slip through the door wearing your shyness as makeup, rosy blotches blooming atop damp skin.
By CJ Miller5 days ago in Fiction
Migrants Land on Martha’s Vineyard, Country Divided September 14th, 2022 Approximately fifty migrants, the majority of whom are Venezuelan, arrived on the Massachusetts island today via Florida. Local authorities were unaware of the flights. . .
By CJ Miller8 months ago in Fiction
Sadness seeps slowly, seamlessly Sirenlike, sans sound Seductive Smothering successes Spoiling seasonal sojourns Supplanting sensorial synergy
By CJ Millerabout a year ago in Poets
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Through the worn silver, as if gazing into a neighboring den of sin, I was able to make out the shape of a woman with spidery fingers, her dress a brown, shabby muslin. Her hair like sullied snow.
By CJ Millerabout a year ago in Fiction
Three made of fleece and two stitched from cotton Five more beds than my mum need have boughten I swear on my paw She's a sucker for moi
Existence lacks meaning: a daunting perspective One must become the poet: an artful directive Some win the lotto Whilst others get blotto
The idle Queen looked out upon the poor "Surely we can help them just a smidge more..." Her King sipped his wine Amid feasts so divine
Touch was once a verb for embracing another's skin Now we fumble about screens that demand a bloody PIN Depression's on the rise
Every night at Midnight The purple clouds came Out to dance with The blushing sky And though you professed
time knows nothing of lines; rather, free-flowing arcs cascade in concert
lack of time breeds angst an excess births mad malaise rel•a•tiv•i•ty
time is on our side. so we've been told. slow to trust. this strife, growing old.