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Tag Archives: Aryn
music makes my bones move
music makes my bones move he says, shakes last year’s mardi gras beads like maracas, keeps a beat not listened to but pulsed from the soles up
buttercup of death
My kids were squabbling in the back of the car. Normal, right? Well, normal on the surface until Aryn looks at his sister, and shouts with all of his breath, “You buttercup of death!” Remember, this is the child who … Continue reading
Susan Daniels Poetry 