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sometimes it is hard to find the inspiration to start writing. sitting down and staring at a blank screen and a blinking cursor, looking at lines on the page and your pen hovering above, staring into space and thinking about anything BUT writing. it happens to all of us. and some days there is a jeep surrounded by wildflowers in the middle of a field and you can’t type or write fast enough. think of your inspiration as a jeep hiding in the wildflowers. you can see it, just barely. walk through the field, feel the sun warming your skin, smell the flowers as you get closer, hear the buzzing of the bees pollinating, reach out and touch the hot metal of the jeep, imagine the hum of the engine as it takes you through a landscape of inspiration.

hot july night by eric short

In your bed, pretending to sleep, secretly counting fan blades like flower petals, wondering He loves me, He loves me not, He loves me. Thank god there are five.  

A Closet Story by Jo Matsaeff

I remember dressing up as Salvador Dali for a Carnival parade at school somewhere between 2009 and the end of my teenage years.   My young face, rounder than it

Marlee Head Headshot

The End by Marlee Head

Grief is the silence that burdens the sound — one house, two homes two minds, the bones of all that hurts and remains.   The moon is hung with echoes

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