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Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
Category: Unscheduled
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There is nothing poetic or beautiful about this ache. It is face down on the floor weeping into the carpet like a water bottle with a loose cap, it is my laundry piling up on the floor, it is unanswered messages from people who are not you, it is staring out the window imagining another…
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What if I threw my phone into the deepest canyon? What if all my words came apart into a tangle of letters? What if I became a meal for scavengers and changed my name to Carrion? What if all the stars went out at once and the oceans became still as death? What would become…
loose threads 