Fiction author • Dog mom • Castaway
final hour before the deadline: if not now, when? pro•cras•ti•na•tion
By CJ Millerabout a year ago in Poets
for more time with you i would saw myself clean in half and pawn the rings
father time stops short between crisp, autumnal breaths memento mori
If walls could talk, lavish vowels and exquisite consonants at my disposal, I would use them to beg for your forgiveness. I would tell you how sorry I am for what transpired, what a fool I was to possess a gift so rare, only to mistreat it.
By CJ Millerabout a year ago in Fiction
Grace shakes her father's old canteen with vigor, attempting to free up any droplets that may be circling the bottom. No such luck.
lilith was the wind cast off for sowing dissent her tale eternal •♾• eve channeled water malleable in degrees a vessel for change
autumn transmutes fire weaving rusty-hued brocades warming weary souls •♾• winter spins water into playgrounds of iced joy
earth tangos with fire lust replete; leaves set aglow burnt up by deceit •♾• fire bows to water slow and precise; flames form em-
through primordial fluid, she pirouettes in concert with my pulse •♾• harsh light overhead fire scorching our clamped lids
Inscrutable gaze of a coin-faced Moon The sonorous cry of a lark felled in June I spilled forth from my window like ribbons of paint
Beneath a scar-lit sky of amethyst Lite-Brite's successor Jewels in the shape Of dreams mounted To moon-speckled parchment
roofs like blueberries scattered atop the stomping grounds of gods fabled