Neatness
Clean and arrange, arrange and clean: I do in my home, I do as I write. I leave enough dirt as to not be a prude. Dust is not dirt, black is not white. Her jawline curves, I court her displaced. I tickle my bits, my pieces just so -- several issues to overcome before the hump I over go.
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Labels: craft of writing
posted by JMH | 10:11 PM
3 Comments:
You never have to leave dirt, specifically. There's always enough that you miss. And it accumulates quick.
Unless of course you are a cleaning maniac, trying to pass for not. In that case: will indeed have to force yourself, to miss a spot.
Dirt as in typos? Ignorance? We're made of the same thing as stars, and what are they if not dirt?
Rhymes make me laugh. I'm not really sure what this post means or what I'm trying to say here. Generally making it public will clear that up and I'll feel an impetus to add or subtract. But no, I've got nothing more. And that's okay once in a while, especially when it gets dark before five. I guess it means whatever it means to you guys.
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