Button

I'd never quite understood the way memories taste, feel, smell-- simply watched the way things look from ten, twenty years on, but memories go gray by then, brittle, stale as ...

Hi there :) So--quick review, because to be perfectly honest, I don't have much to say. I think that the first and last were my favorites as they just tended ...

Hi there! So, I too suffer from the occasional insomnia, and I must agree, it is quite frustrating. However, I found this poem quite frustrating at parts too. You have ...

Almost squeamish, if it weren't for habit: hands press stars like grapes, make themselves into cups: long draught from burnt fingers, burning still. In a churlish Q, my fingers cross ...

Failing hardcore at writing. This is a genuine memory for me, which always muddles my writing, even disregarding the fact that it's prose. I eat apple cores. I always have, ...

Honestly, I didn't take humor away from this at all, and didn't find the topic offensive. However, technically, I DO think that it needs work. The topic of rape is ...

The problem that I see with the hips is that you've made them planes rather than curves. They need to be a bit rounder. Yes, hips have that almost flat ...

I thought a lot about this poem, Gal. Most of your work passes me by, sometimes I get it, sometimes I don't want to go through the effort of getting ...

I have run out of things to say. Kissed the river mouth, drunk the fish and the bottles and wondered where the hell my hallucinations were. Plucked fingers from my ...

I am from loneliness. I am from a mistaken motherhood, a child broken to splintered stars in each pupil. I pierce the ends of her fingers like a needle, sew ...

Hi there! So, I love the premise of this and the writing style, but felt like a couple of things were missing. Where is the build up emotionally to this? ...

Hi there! So, nicely done, great picture-- the moon can be especially hard to capture without turning it into one huge piece of bokeh. However, I must say that something ...

So, I read this awhile ago, and it took me a while to decide how I feel about it. Honestly, stories about cutting and suicide and all that stuff generally ...

you are a bathroom mirror ghost, steam lunged and open mouthed, wondering where all the years went, how many lovers are carved into the lines of my face. you linger ...

something inconsequential paws at the rivered bones in your throat-- you choke on it. it trips your tongue and lies across your language, languid, sprawled, creek boned and watery. you ...