Wish I'd had the courage to shoot this woman from the front. She had on a marvelous hat, purple stockings, rouged cheeks, pursed ruby lips, and was reading Orwell's 1984.
A birthday party tonight. A friend of Maeve's. The kids carved pumpkins. Had cupcakes. Looked through a cabinet of curiosities. I learned about the jaw harp and heard it played. And I spotted this friendly Eastern European fellow.
I just killed an ant on my desk. Poor ant. He fell to my poem frustration. I'm in a "renshi" poem cycle that goes from person to person (in a small group) and from the previous person's poem you must take their last line and use it as your title. I have little to show for my efforts (this is my second round) and now I've killed an ant walking innocently and ant-like across my desk because I could.