poet
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“Beautiful soared into my life, like a cage-free chicken, wild and fascinating and somewhat ridiculous. Beauty was the elegant figure eights of a tire swing, inviting and dangerous. It was a challenge, strewn with homemade mud and armed with carved tree bark. Beauty was losing, your breath, your reservations, and your humility. Beauty was not
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Once upon a time. A dog awoke in its own bed and padded into the kitchen. The dog sat on its haunches and waited expectantly. Its dark eyes fixed on the cabinet, tongue lolling over its back molars. In its waiting it does not contemplate the mysteries of the cabinet or the futility of each
Carmen Paquette 