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The Log

Friday, May 02, 2008. Killing two Birds With One Stone. A flash of finger down my neck. And the wren sings to the dove. Perhaps I am in a different body, or a different time. But no, there he is in his anger. The door slams, but I am too intoxicated. I can feel his breath on my lips. Is mine just as sweet. When a wren builds a nest. Will the eggs hatch a tuft of white, or a smothering of brown. The touch was too intimate. It spoke of knowledge that only he should share. As the lights draw dark. Sunday, F...

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The Log | elizabethlog.blogspot.com Reviews

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Friday, May 02, 2008. Killing two Birds With One Stone. A flash of finger down my neck. And the wren sings to the dove. Perhaps I am in a different body, or a different time. But no, there he is in his anger. The door slams, but I am too intoxicated. I can feel his breath on my lips. Is mine just as sweet. When a wren builds a nest. Will the eggs hatch a tuft of white, or a smothering of brown. The touch was too intimate. It spoke of knowledge that only he should share. As the lights draw dark. Sunday, F...

<META> KEYWORDS

1 the log

2 a collection

3 with my mistake

4 0 comments

5 they wanted honesty

6 as sleep whirls

7 like a leaf

8 in sheer joy

9 the groom

10 my neck turns

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The Log | elizabethlog.blogspot.com Reviews

https://elizabethlog.blogspot.com

Friday, May 02, 2008. Killing two Birds With One Stone. A flash of finger down my neck. And the wren sings to the dove. Perhaps I am in a different body, or a different time. But no, there he is in his anger. The door slams, but I am too intoxicated. I can feel his breath on my lips. Is mine just as sweet. When a wren builds a nest. Will the eggs hatch a tuft of white, or a smothering of brown. The touch was too intimate. It spoke of knowledge that only he should share. As the lights draw dark. Sunday, F...

INTERNAL PAGES

elizabethlog.blogspot.com

1

The Log: Perhaps

http://www.elizabethlog.blogspot.com/2008/02/perhaps.html

Saturday, February 16, 2008. The world can tilt. And I can converse in sensible tones. As sweat pours down my legs. And the carpet trips my steps. See how I impress? The bangles clang on the slight arms. Their eyes bloom as lotus. As mine wilt in the sun. My mouth has begun to spew serpents, instead of diamonds. When the prince approaches the well. I can grow into my clam shell,. My Venus body will become inoffensive,. But their earings catch the sun. Just as it hits the horizon. View my complete profile.

2

The Log: A Message in a Bottle

http://www.elizabethlog.blogspot.com/2005/08/message-in-bottle.html

Thursday, August 18, 2005. A Message in a Bottle. Inside, a small sea shell. White and worn, with small grooves from the sea. My thumb moved along the edge. Carving its name onto my print. I threw it back in the ocean. With a swift flick of the wrist. As tempting as it was to watch the speck of white. Get smaller and smaller and smaller. As it swam across the tip of the ocean,. I turned my head and faced the wind. Letting it lift my skirt above my knees. Posted by Elizabeth @ 3:29 PM. Night in my Car.

3

The Log: September 2005

http://www.elizabethlog.blogspot.com/2005_09_01_archive.html

Tuesday, September 20, 2005. A Late Night Visitor. Domino dust was falling onto my skin. It burned underneath the blanket. Only with much effort did my sleep heavy eyes open. I could hear the rain outside,. Tapping my window, wanting to come in. I was not alone. I was in the shower, washing away the dust. The burning stopped, but I wanted to stay longer, under the water. I sat down, opened the shower door. My fingers were beginning to prune. The wrinkled landscape turned white with chill. I could not lon...

4

The Log: My Kinda Man

http://www.elizabethlog.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-kinda-man.html

Wednesday, August 17, 2005. I travel down your 10 freeway. Rolling the window down,. Tracing the telephone wires. Coasting along your deserted streets. Your air spills through my hair. And your fingers spread across my back like wings. My fingers carress your battle scars,. You've seen the worst in people,. Yet your starlit scars continue. Stretching your arms as far as you can. Your poker face won't work with me,. Seeing the beauty of you. Your landscapes is glowing. Under a California sun.

5

The Log: Unexpected

http://www.elizabethlog.blogspot.com/2005/08/unexpected.html

Wednesday, August 17, 2005. Finding a person in your pocket. Well, that's unexpected. I go to a friend's party,. Drive a stranger home,. And there it is. A person falling into my pocket. I study him, like I study a penny,. To see if he should remain. Tucked away next to my hip bone. I leave him there. Forgetting I was ever without. I wear the same pants everyday. Just so I don't have to empty my pockets. Posted by Elizabeth @ 10:33 AM. Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile.

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Yellow Trout: June 2005

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2005_06_01_archive.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. What, Its Been Like Forever! Its all a crock of shit. It really is. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Thursday, June 30, 2005. Also, you suck. Posted by Elizabeth @ Thursday, June 30, 2005. Wednesday, June 29, 2005. Did Feel Sorry For Myself. But, now its over. No one needs me to complain about my life, although I do, often. Posted by Elizabeth @ Wednesday, June 29, 2005. Tuesday, June 28, 2005.

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Yellow Trout: November 2004

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. What, Its Been Like Forever! Its all a crock of shit. It really is. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Monday, November 29, 2004. Nothing Catchy to Say? I feel very sick, but in a weird sick way where it feels like my chest is caving in and I'm slowly shrinking. I slept not a wink last night. Our next door neighbor has a wind machine and he had it going last night! Wednesday, November 24, 2004. Poste...

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: Strange Married Days

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2006/11/strange-married-days.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Why Dont I Have a Holiday? Monday, November 06, 2006. Is it weird to secretly want someone out there to have a devotion site to you? I mean is that too much to ask? Do you ever go searching for your own name on google or youtube hoping that someone created a love tribute that you just happened upon? I'm his wife for christ's sake! Well, yeah, kinda.

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: May 2004

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. What, Its Been Like Forever! Its all a crock of shit. It really is. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Wednesday, May 26, 2004. Is it wrong to stare at your own boobs? Posted by Elizabeth @ Wednesday, May 26, 2004. Its almost vacation time. Wooooooo. Life is like a damn long walk that never ends. Posted by Elizabeth @ Wednesday, May 26, 2004. Friday, May 21, 2004. But then again if I am at home watch...

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2006/11/its-all-crock-of-shit.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Why Dont I Have a Holiday? Monday, November 06, 2006. It's all a crock of shit. It really is. Posted by Elizabeth @ Monday, November 06, 2006.

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: Living with Parents, Here We Come

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2006/07/living-with-parents-here-we-come.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. Why Dont I Have a Holiday? Thursday, July 13, 2006. Living with Parents, Here We Come. So see you all later. Peace out. Posted by Elizabeth @ Thursday, July 13, 2006.

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: September 2004

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_archive.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. What, Its Been Like Forever! Its all a crock of shit. It really is. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Tuesday, September 21, 2004. I'm moving this week. My cat wont stop finding things to wake me up. Must kill kitten.but she's so cute. I cant. I also have a cat. My old apartment smells funny and know when we move out we're going to find something dead. Its all Adam's fault. Friday, September 10, 2004.

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: Good Excuse

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2006/09/good-excuse.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Why Dont I Have a Holiday? Sunday, September 10, 2006. I abandoned the blog, but I had a good excuse. My company baned the site. Yeah, so I think that explains it. By the way there is like 6 six days until my wedding. Less than a week. AHHHHHHH! I am very excited, although I feel like I'm forgetting something like every five minutes. Did we leave the oven on?

yellowtrout.blogspot.com

Yellow Trout: December 2004

http://yellowtrout.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html

Just a little taste, not the whole meal. View my complete profile. My Poems, I guess. The Atrox, Rock it. What, Its Been Like Forever! Its all a crock of shit. It really is. Living with Parents, Here We Come. Thursday, December 23, 2004. The World has Received Improved Marks. Today I arrived home. Strange, but its not really the same. Touching, I know. I never get serious. Jesus my brain cells must decrease in my sleep. Just so you know, too much cranberry juice is not a good thing. 77 Days Til Arbor Day.

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The Log

Friday, May 02, 2008. Killing two Birds With One Stone. A flash of finger down my neck. And the wren sings to the dove. Perhaps I am in a different body, or a different time. But no, there he is in his anger. The door slams, but I am too intoxicated. I can feel his breath on my lips. Is mine just as sweet. When a wren builds a nest. Will the eggs hatch a tuft of white, or a smothering of brown. The touch was too intimate. It spoke of knowledge that only he should share. As the lights draw dark. Sunday, F...

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