I listen to a lot of music. I go to about a dozen concerts or more each year, and I am constantly sharing new music recommendations with my friends.
By Kay Husnick5 months ago in Beat
The mixed emotions may be worse than grief. The worry for my father as he deals with loss, the freedom from her further harm,
By Kay Husnick5 months ago in Poets
She's gone, he tells me. The woman for years at death's door has succumbed, and despite my name following lies in her obituary,
Ask me how it feels to profit off a man's death. I'll show you five dollars and some change while his wife sells t-shirts, a sketched halo over his head.
the colors under my boots and gray, gloomy skies will soon fade to brown
If I were her, I would never eat another blueberry again.
violence a last word before a shot rings out, a wound, a slumped body under words Prove Me Wrong, and we are left divided, pointing fingers before a suspect is named
By Kay Husnick6 months ago in Poets
Someone asked me the other day if I miss New York, and the unspoken comparison of this small town in their mind is all I could hear.
Someone before you thought they knew me, built a picture in their head that my words and actions could never prove wrong.
By Kay Husnick7 months ago in Poets
I notice the unpaid car bill before the date hits me as your birthday. Last year, I made the payment for maybe the fourth month in a row,
The first step is the hardest one foot in front of the other into the darkness, but it could be a key. It could be the first one pressed to the next to the next
Call it a cleansing, the way I donated and discarded the memories of ghosts long gone; they don't need to live in my closet anymore, laid to rest in cardboard caskets
