I wrote a poem about not having bandaids when I cut my finger once and the good people at Red Fez decided to publish it here.
I wrote it about a year ago. To this day I still don’t have bandaids in the house. Or Maalox.
But at least some of the canvasses have since been painted, and the books read and the music heard.
Eventually I’ll find the balance between the practical and the creative. And then, I’ll have it all figured out, right?
In the meantime, thanks to Red Fez for the pub.
By Ally Malinenko
I live in Brooklyn which is good except when it’s not which is horrid. I’ve been writing for awhile, and have some stuff published and some stuff not.
I don’t like when people refer to pets as their children and I can’t resist a handful of cheez-its when offered.
I have a burning desire to go to Antarctica, specifically to the South Pole so I can see where Robert Falcon Scott died.
I like to read books. I like to write stories and poems. I even wrote some novels. You can read them.
View all of Ally Malinenko's posts.