Author Note

I'm just a paintbrush, I've been colored, with different emotions, pushed on, by different reasons, all choices, weaving and dancing, connecting, just to write these poems, fate is greater than me, it’s like I'm under house arrest, for it to happen, it would offer a lot, I don’t know, comfort words, maybe it likes this place a lot, these spirits, the faeries, the energy, and contracts in the sand, maybe it likes how I weave it, it certainly raised me to do my job.

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Imaginary Food

Walmart girl, it may not have been real, you may have dreamed too far, followed the flow of your life, for a little too long, and the heavens sent me, as a warning, a marking, to not abuse your gift, or this faerie spell could backfire, and I could come all over your face, anyways, it may not be real, but at least, I saw your panties, and your hairy bush.