Comments Posted By abigail

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conditions are a state of the mind, what is needed what you want
what you have to follow
conditions are everywhere
nothing is free
nothing is free of consequence.

» Posted By abigail On 08.01.2019 @ 11:44 am


in the Square, where there were dogs playing in fountains and army veterans playing violin next to open cases. a hemp bag of celery, broccoli, honey, eggplant, bell pepper slung on my arm. the swelling vegetable season painted the market and it was all cheap and delicious and fresh. polishing the fiery surface of a pepper with my sleeve, it reflected the noon sun. i took a wet bite..

» Posted By abigail On 09.23.2018 @ 10:25 am


The national anthem has become for this country some strange sort of nationalistic and overly patriotic call to cohesion. It is an opiate of the masses, indeed, like Football, or the thunderdome, that keeps us quiet and subservient. I wish I could escape the truth.

» Posted By ABigail On 05.10.2017 @ 8:32 pm


There were a million stars above our boiling minds. A billion. Trillion, maybe. More. More stars than there are numbers. We could only see a sampling of the offerings of the universe and under the softly churning wispy clouds of a storm just barely ended, I felt like one of them.

» Posted By abigail On 03.06.2017 @ 5:46 pm


I stare at him. He is five feet away from me, standing, shoulders hunched in concentration, hair a delicious catastrophic swish. His hands sway left to right in a frenetic connection to his soaring voice- lecturing about Pound, of all things. He pushes back his sweater sleeves to reveal bony wrists. This man, I think, is an angel.

» Posted By Abigail On 01.24.2017 @ 8:39 pm


Boom, Clap. smash. the sound of destruction and terrible memories flood back to another. Boom. A bomb. A car blown to pieces.

» Posted By Abigail On 03.16.2016 @ 11:48 am


Things of value could include alot of things, but family comes first to my mind. They’re intrinsically valuable, they matter so much. Family are the ones that are there for you at the end of the day.

» Posted By Abigail On 02.05.2016 @ 12:42 am



» Posted By Abigail On 12.23.2015 @ 7:31 pm

There was a quiet whistling in the ancient town of Malighton, in which the water was frozen over, thick as butter. The man in charge was a bearded heathen whom, coupled with his dark skin and yellowing eyes, provided the butt of jokes throughout the local community.

» Posted By Abigail On 12.23.2015 @ 7:30 pm


I can see for miles. I taste the cigarette smoke of the couple beside me. I feel the bite of December and the ashy piles of old dust beneath my feet. On the mountain peak, the old Appalachian trail’s end, the hard winter earth, I am in the midst of transparency.

» Posted By abigail On 11.11.2015 @ 7:12 am


We were walking through central park at two am with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He stopped his pace and spun me around to face him. He told me he loved me. I was taken aback because we have only met this morning yet I was so intrigued for I felt I have known him all my life.

» Posted By Abigail On 10.04.2015 @ 5:48 pm


His knees bent beneath him, his hands on the ground. His eyes were closed, his cheeks were damp. Soft winds rustled the tall grass around him. The stone marker rose from the earth, carved with weathered letters.

» Posted By abigail On 08.29.2015 @ 5:20 pm


Bound between our DNA strands, trapped in the helix. Him and I, the cigarettes, the blue leaking veins, the secret loves, the private pain, all of it bundled in our blood. The porch swing is creaking, the night is hazy. It’s love or it’s slavery.

» Posted By abigail On 08.27.2015 @ 4:05 pm


Champagne petals, quivering stem, sunny center. Little innocence, bathing in sunshine, I pluck this from the ground, then toss it back to the earth. I am ashamed of my act of simple destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it, pressing deep into the sidewalk.

» Posted By abigail On 08.26.2015 @ 5:33 pm

Quivering stem, champagne petals, sunny center. I pluck this from the ground, then toss it aside, ashamed of my simple act of destruction. A boy on a bicycle runs over it on the sidewalk.

» Posted By abigail On 08.26.2015 @ 5:27 pm


hands unfolding
a truth known only to a select few
words that sound like honey
antediluvian but somehow avant-garde
that’s the way with truth sometimes, somehow.

and somehow it is both the bane and the happy destiny of the world
(or the people in it)
to be shielded (as it were) from this all-knowing truth,
more or less.

unfolding light
and outpouring raindrops.
what’s really funny is the things people will believe when they really want to.
but i do not mean to say i am excluded from this.
because just this morning i convinced myself i could afford a new set of paints.
i cannot.

» Posted By abigail On 06.09.2015 @ 9:20 pm


Maybe life isn’t about winning. Maybe it’s about learning more, doing more, celebrating more, and just enjoying what you have. I would know, because I can’t remember the last time I’ve won anything. But that’s okay. Because maybe just trying your hardest is what winning really is.

» Posted By Abigail On 04.22.2015 @ 6:46 am


Breaking free of the leather straps of the parachute, I fling myself from the airplane. For my last rushing moments, I soar through the thin air as I watch the earth rise to meet me.

» Posted By Abigail On 01.09.2015 @ 1:34 pm


Once there was a trainer. And it had very flashy shoelaces and nobody wanted to go near it because it had such flashy shoelaces. He got himself a pair of plain shoelaces and he was worn at last. The trainer was now happy.

» Posted By abigail On 01.09.2015 @ 6:21 am


Wrapped up in the scent he left behind him. The rain drumming on my window helped to numb my thoughts. Pain and pleasure: so the same to me. I learned young to hide them both to protect myself when love turned false. Dropping into my bed and staring up at the ceiling, I felt my heart try to cocoon itself in that ever comforting silence because what I was feeling was too much to bear. I couldn’t breath because such were always my dreams. They never stayed long.

» Posted By Abigail On 01.08.2015 @ 1:09 pm


fingers tightly wound around your gift,
a bouquet of clementines.
pressing every button in the elevator
high heels, velvet seats
arabesque, drosselmeyer.

we’re making the best of a bad situation with pointe shoes and pine needles.

» Posted By Abigail On 01.06.2015 @ 7:26 pm


weaving through with my golden web
to a place at the bottom of god’s hill
dotted with peach trees and blackbirds
i am still not at home

» Posted By Abigail On 12.14.2014 @ 11:10 am


one time i saw a man crying at the bus stop
i witnessed his sorrowful eyes trace a boy that walked by
and i wondered if he missed his sons
i witnessed a fat tear sneak down his leathery cheek
i witnessed him cease to exist in the present.

» Posted By abigail On 03.06.2014 @ 5:53 am


is for losers. Is for people who don’t have attitudes, or have more attitudes than I have right now because I feel dead and winterized and stuck in this place and unable to put anything on paper. This even feels like it stinks. I can’t light onto anything, I don’t know if it is because there hasn’t been any reading for me lately or whatever, but I can only seem to be creati

» Posted By abigail On 11.16.2013 @ 7:28 pm


he wrapped her in his arms and whispered hoarsely into her ear “I love you” and it was enough.
it was more than enough.
she was home
she was where she needed to be- in his arms.
pressing her lips to his, she kissed him the same

» Posted By abigail On 07.09.2013 @ 9:46 pm


They are used in circuses or parades. I cannot walk on them. They make you taller, people dress in outfits over the top of them. They are made of wood or metal. They can be used in construction work not just for fun. They used to have them at my school.

» Posted By Abigail On 06.23.2013 @ 8:01 pm


I’m not really sure what this word means. It reminds me of cold though. When I think of it I think of the word “icy”. I think I need to let lose in my writing a little more. I’m not even sure if its meant to be “lose” or “loose” in this instance. I feel awful today. Bleak. Not oblique.

» Posted By Abigail On 05.28.2013 @ 1:17 pm


Taboo. A game I used to play with my sister. I don’t remember how it was played or how it relates to the definition of the word. I guess I just remember that we had a lot of fun back then.

» Posted By abigail On 05.13.2013 @ 3:41 pm


Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.

» Posted By abigail On 05.12.2013 @ 9:36 pm

Auburn. The color of my hair in the winter time. I liked it better than in the summer because I didn’t want blonde highlights. I wanted to be unique. I’ve always wanted to be different. Please love me. Auburn. The color of a really good crayon. The one I always used for my hair and tree bark. Only good when it’s real.

» Posted By abigail On 05.12.2013 @ 9:27 pm

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