http://slow.writerscafe.org/mohl083 The original writings of author Mohl083 en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776006222 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 So I’m just gonna say f**k this coldAnd think back on the warmthOf a mid-spring day. Sitting on gently warmed concrete Outside of the art classroomWe were probably painting something. She wasn’t chubby, but her toes were, for some reasonLightly freckled,No.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1490006/ you tell me http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1389329/ Even God probably keeps his desk covered In stacks of bureaucratic paperwork. Lists of recently deceased filling the IN boxWhile newborns flow into the OUT one. A necessary micromanager Who tries to keep tabs on every kid with leukemia Or downtrodden bum But just as he&rs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1226603/ as hard as i tryi can't bring myselfto drop my fat stupid fingerson the delete keyand make vanish the ghosts i haven't talked to since high school."i gotta keep her oni had a crush on her for a week in 10th grade"oh what a week. what a crude fantasyof f*****g her on her parents' .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1183843/ summer was coming to an endin more ways than expected.the wind was about to get a slight chilland the leaves would soon be changing. we would both be leaving what we called hometemporarily at leastand do that sort of dosey-doe for the last four years. i had to leave,but i'll let my me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1177639/ now that my life is stopped by a bent mower bladethe age when such bee stings to my bony bottomwere far from the horizon slip further away. flipping through an old photo albumchosen at random from the hall closet that used to house old halloween costumestwists the knife.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1172699/ catharsis and what not... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1075961/ the final poem in the bachelor party trilogy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/1031525/ i got pissed offa year or so agowhen i saw a friend,and a good friend at that,had posted something on his wallthat he was going to"pick the pen back up"phrases like that make me wretchlike the last throwsof a wicked hangoverand it's all over but the dry heaves...i don't know how long it's beensince .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/947826/ i've been thinking about this poem a lot lately for no apparent reason. when re-reading it, the core jumped out at me, so i whittled it away and placed it here on my mantle. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/947817/ this started out as a waste of time. trying to see if it can turn into a bigger waste of time. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/636853/ seeing how much stuff i can rip off in one novel. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/636852/ seeing what happens http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/604515/ trying to awaken the sleeping drunk http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/596094/ meh... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/580204/ less than a week http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/563150/ got a call to go to the bar in the middle of writing this. not really finished, but who cares... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/554916/ getting back on the horse http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/549467/ the bittersweet taste of marchkisses me passionatelylike i have only known in times of true lust. a con's drooped shouldersfingers strumming the only tuneto match the beat of raindrops on glass. an old obituary i dust off this time of yearbecause i promised to never forget but maybe i need to. a thr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/520996/ snow days make me sad... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/512195/ life is kind of like those carnival gameswhere you knock down a stack of milk canswith a yellowed softball. i could hand over a week's salaryto a snarl-toothed carnieand walk away empty handedonly to spot the happy fools prancing among the ranks of the unwashedwith giant, pink and white stuffed tedd.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/504115/ I don't want someone to tell me I'm beatifulunless they mean cover of GQ beautiful. A pure soul or heart the size of Jupiter--People like that always wind up with their face in the mudWhile their wife's in the next room with the milkman. Gladyly, I would hock any golden qualties For.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/485836/ reflections from a year ago http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/480532/ Eros finally spoke to meThrough a sledgehammer personified by A hop-scotching angel Who fell into my empty arms When I wasn’t paying attention. I probably looked like my nameWas just called out in the crowdBut her eyes spoke with such confidenceThere could b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mohl083/474995/ When I was 19 There were few places I’d rather beThan on a college rooftop at two in the morningSucking down Camels While the first frost bit our noses. 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