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I think the dog got away.
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Like a honey cake horse
People always tell us their twin stories, but they’re nothing like ours.
You say this is the worst thing I could do.
Something happened to my Wednesday
When you stop at twenty-three
Both of us are frowning, but it looks more natural on me.
A lick of the Mississippi
She’d never seen anything like it.
You’re not a smart bee
He’d better not do it again.
True, false and floating
I reached inside and / broke open / three people today
If you can horrify a carny, you must be doing something right.
I wasn’t there, so I can’t be sure
I think the dog got away.
Wrap the bones around it
Don’t let the bastards get you down.
There’s an elephant in my story
I have never liked her.
This was going to get messy.
How do you mark a day like this?
Rabbit bones and dirty feet
Since you ask.
She couldn’t stop if she tried.
The sun you didn’t see
Just keep moving.
Black Snake Blossom
You’ll never be the same again.
Thirty three reasons why
Watcha reading, babydoll?
It’s not like you mean to hit him.
The secret things you know
This is the story I won’t tell you.
And the fifth drowned said
This brine and tangle.
The kohl girl and her Finnish banjo
Why do the freaky ones always look so damn good?
the little witches
If there were ever a word I’d know, it would be that.
Six word story #1
He had lucky dice cufflinks and gin breath.
honey bee, let’s fly home
How do you want to be remembered?
I’m going to live the life I sing about in …
I already know how to do that.
a summer spell
At first I thought everyone could see it.
the muskrat and the moustache
He spent his childhood riding muskrats and collecting codpieces.
Spitting out leaves.
the clouded stories from the corner table
You always know when I’m lying.
black & vinegar
Just one sweet, sour moment.
that cider scowl
That’s me with my arms crossed.
in the hands of the volcano doll
Crossed eyes and red lips.
This is the way to the blackbirds
Don’t take it personally.
this is a song about honey
spiral & smoulder
Clochette & her tails
Only the cat is poetry.
When it began, it came from her fingertips.
baskerville old face
I like your font.
five days of blue
The third day, it followed me home.
When was the last time you told your story to a stranger?
You know what to do.
that little storm was you
The verdict of a tequila woman.
witching hour blues at the back of the throat
There was a moment last night when I almost told you.
one green word
That’s all I need.
feast eight – collingwood
goat’s cheese pastries with pine nuts
He waits until she’s asleep to begin.
the kohl girl & her mermaid tattoos
My hobbies are wig spotting and eating red fruit.
red poppy song
We know better.
choose your own buddha
If she takes the bait, go to 8. / If she glosses over this provocation, go to 9.
Mata Hari and her gingham piglet
Don’t make any sudden moves.
He won’t tell her where it came from.
violet in the flames
No-one tells her that.
brown sugar trick
We both know I’m not that sweet
those fig mornings
I tend to look away from you. I tend to blush.
the taste of red
The red snakes are the most delicious.
the first storm
Sorrow hung on with one crooked nail hooked over her collarbone
lit in the same places
In half an hour she’d be back entirely in her skin
her favourite fraggle
Dr Archer says there are no creatures
I don’t remember you.
Long, ripe fingers without rings, without shame, and without me
feast seven – reykjavik
sweet lobster soup / crusty, salty bread / Icelandic schnapps
there’s charcoal on her dress
If she goes out to dinner, go to 4. / If she returns to the hotel, go to 5.
the star anise room
I’ve already done worse, she told herself, and for a moment she believed it.
the kohl girl & her lime pips
I’m allergic to purple and terrifying to Virgos.
to the year of water off my back
I saw written on my palm / One word
How about some bones of bastards to sharpen your fangs on?
coconut & dirt
I’m going to hurt you tonight / In three delicate ways
The Alphabet Witch
She’d eaten all the vowels, but everyone knows they’re the most delicious.
the growling goddess of chinatown
For one red moment she thinks she might kick the door in.
Some girls just stick in your throat, and you can’t wash them down.
the freckles on my fingertips
Stories trail behind me like the hem of a beautiful gown, and I point my toes as I stride.
the book of blood and snow
She dotted her i’s with little circles. / I fucking hate that.
He was afraid of her eyes. / He was meant to be.
fell to the red room
It does things to me that I don’t understand.
brigit with the peppermint hands
harlot, hooker, hussy, jade, jezebel, minx, mistress, scrubber, slag, slattern, slut, strumpet, succubus, tail, tart, tramp, trollop, wanto…
I am liquorice allsorts, minus the pink
I went from Barbie / to Medusa / in one quick fall
songs of spine & salt
brush my hair aside / & read the stories in my bones
Laughter so dirty I stumbled, blushed / Never felt so unripe.
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