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.
Ally Malinenko 