Poem: You, In the City

Also, to be frank, I like dense cities best and care about them most.-Jane Jacobs

The thrum of traffic
sways you down,
lays you gentle
on concrete. Look,

the stars are scattered,
in street lamps,
the glow of signs,
our moon a puddle;

and that openness
inside you rests,
sated with the longings
of thousands.

________________________

I am reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs right now. I haven't even made it past the introduction and I'm already wowed.

Like, check this shit out:

So even though I'm in suburban Arizona right now, here's a poem about the city.

Short Story: Distraction

It was an office, not unlike any of the other offices around the city. There were windows, visible to the lucky few cubes on the ends of the rows. Then there was Vera's cube, situated next to the row of manager's offices. Today she was lucky, someone had left their door open and precious slant of sunlight escaped, warming her back and washing out half of her computer screen. "I never realized your hair was red," Tracy dumped a large stack of paper on her desk, "The florescent lights make everything look so soupy." "What is that?" she pointed at the stack of paper. Tracy only offered compliments when he wanted a favor. "I need this entered," he smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "You have a secretary," Vera waved a freckled hand to her left, "Ask him." "He's sick," Tracy gave her puppy-dog eyes, batting his long dark eyelashes. Vera sighed and fought back a smile. Tracy was such a s

Poetry and Stuff

Grief:Peripheral The flicker of bluish light filters out what is missing; there is only one set of boots by the door, an apple sits on the counter uneaten, and even if you don’t make a sound, the notch in your heart is nothing personal. ____________________________ Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied. From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of owning a library with a ladder? I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with. It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series. One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella. The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work. If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.

The things people say

1. "I don't know. I don't know what you do." (In response to me asking, "Why would I have a blowup doll?") 2. "What are you saying? I can mouse with my right hand." (From a lefty after he was accused of moving the mouse to the left side of the computer.) 3. "I (hic) gave this girl my (hic) my phone number (hic) and she (hic) she never called (hic) called me." 4. "You're hurting me!" "I'm stabbing your coat." "With a knife!" "So?" "Knives hurt people!"

Refracted Neurons

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