Friday, March 6, 2015

Rt 3315 flordacana poem

They gather to applaud the sunset. "I'm here from Columbus, Ohio to escape the snow – – yeah, I'm working in insurance claims...there was a drone up there late at night."  He points to the streaks of violet above the Gulf.

The dog throws up a piece of chili cheese dog right before hot pink flarees on the horizon-- just missing the Canadians sipping Millers on our shared sea wall. 

Phosphorescent. A  glow-in-the-dark jellyfish in hot still waters. 

The Space Coast is another thing entirely, but still, there are drones. Up there. 

"Hey hon, order me one of those limaritas."

Just before the green flash, everyone stands and a tiny old woman in a miniskirt rings the maritime bell.

on Twitter

, where this blog lives now. because it can be read and posted to through that app, one-handed, on my back, by a body of water, or in the cool olive green light above my mattress. This is articulation my spine had not dreamed of before.

My blog lived on Tumblr for a minute

because it is so much easier to access from my phone. fallinginrealtime.tumblr This is the feed. No, I don't like it. I can't add another virtual box. I'll make due with Twitter.

Real Time Archive