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I believe in youu! (Also, nice job on getting this far. Awesome NaPo.)

These are pretty good! I think that maybe you could work on the focus a bit, and maybe play with the colors in an editing program if you wanted to, ...

Hey there Lav! :) So, I thought this was quite nice. You have a nice command of imagery and you developed a really strong tone. However, I do think that ...

You are loveliness in words that cannot be expressed. I agree with Hannah; my favorites seem to be those that you don't think about.

DAY XVII the sight of flesh made me queasy, even without september humidity or blood red leaves in my fist, but pa liked my hands with a gun and green ...

tell the evangelists to cool their fires and lower their hands; religion is scarce in my mouth, god presses nausea to my skin and I can hear you, preacher almighty: ...

we spool lazy honey round our fingers and wish amber in our mouths like the belly of a bee-- silence in buzzing summers, fluttering wings keep us up at night ...

Dig your fingers in: blood blanches and calcifies and we wonder where the wine has gone when the rings age oaken brown in our glasses (our hands warm it, and ...

starbucks Crumpling paper stars in our hands, we paid our bills and sipped at the lacerations it burned into our throats, plying, crying, sighing out words we could never quite ...

knee deep in purple sin we've fallen from scrawling names into tabletops and skin and cigs used to lay between our fingers like currency, but now we have powder in ...

DAY XVI simplicity soaked the sleeves of your Sunday best like saltwater and canker sores and knowing God would be disappointed made you scared, but not as scared as ma ...

DAY XV and saturated even in a pregnancy of thought like this, we cannot think, not when there is paper to be rolled and foam to be smeared across our ...

DAY XIV The air was cruel like her hands on the china, pale and cold under the tap and fragile; so fragile in the steam. We wondered where winter went, ...

DAY XIII There are shawls across our faces like sins, washed out and wrung on the tongues of cavern prophets and the lips of a pipe; with eyes like alleycats ...

---MAJOR WORK IN PROGRESS-- We follow alleycats like we follow the whispers of cold April wind: blind, because the world is gray. We wonder where all the glass from the ...