napo 30:

dear p.

let's pack our bags for these distances. sunscreen and parkas. blank journals and old novels. our animals in tow. maps marked with lines drawn in catywampus patterns. eliot had no story for this. choose a page, or a road. it really doesn't matter. our cars will be near overflowing. our breath running fast. our memories caged inside. this time it's how we say no. how we refuse to accept the voices around us. the daunting misplaced gossip. we don't know where we're going, but we come prepared.

napo 29:

dear,

slam the door,
scream and curse
before the masses.

these clementines
will be held for you,
their sticky juice stuck
to our fingers.

forget right, screw
appearances.
do something

napo 28:

napo 27:

napo 26:

napo 25:

napo 24:

forgot yesterday (napo 23):

napo 22:

was a cento (or two) for this.

enter your own take soon!

mine will be visible between now and sunday.