There’s nothing quite so intimate as
thinking of you when I exfoliate my lips
-rjm
loose threads
a smattering of things
recent posts
about
Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
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So yesterday’s haiku was fun, yeah? Bad days happen. Let’s move on! I’m having an intense sense memory as I type this: the room I’m in suddenly smells like the library I went to as a child. Odd. Hello, old SPL. I miss your old book smell and hiding in the YA stacks upstairs reading books that were ~too mature~ for me.
How much can you say
in a handful of seconds?
A moon full, grapes sweet
loose threads 