kendra-cookWhisper

American
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HaikuOne lone jagged stick, / Far below towering trees, / Broken from its home.
5
Oct 4, 2010
NikesHannah and I / were stealing mailboxes / because we were drunk
34
Oct 4, 2010
UntitledLine your empty words / With parentheses / Extend them, fake and false
10
Oct 4, 2010
Barrels & Bashing & Biblical Bruises"A holstered product secretly hunts after its own end product-" / "-not metal targets nor flying geese, but mortality." / A man, with graying hair and pursed lips, told me this. A well-trained and prayered piety had crept along, pounced, and overcome him. Like Edison, a creative obsession gripped his spine and puppeteered the entire body. It was a plague, he called it, or something like that. Even at a young age, gaurdian 1 & 2 lulled him to the steeple's hiding. He noted how the steeple was always at mast. His children would observe the same detail, live the same routine. I studied the curious character for weeks. A facsimile of the Word seemed permanently pressed on his brain, trapped behind devout eyes- For weeks I studied him, give me more time! Each biblical page was scribbled and creased, share and reused. -no longer. "My holster found its mortal tonight, friend. I'll raise the barrel and create a grand scene."
19
Sep 29, 2010
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