a poem on election day
Feisty gets her very own TBI, so she can tell you all about it. Damn.
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The muse in gentle, quiet action
A poem is writing me she takes my hand, holds pen, guides softly my brain thinks, and she chuckles, places her hand over mine, gently let go, she whispers I’ve got this one
A look at the epileptic brain of Feisty Quill. A video of Elaine dancing on Seinfeld. What’s not to like?
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“Happily So,” a Happy Tale
Feisty goes for a walk, and imagines a world where we truly appreciate how we do stuff: happily.
Feisty’s first dedicated blog entry, and first drunk writing experiment.
My Mom died again for the millionth time. Grief is funny like that.
Feisty will believe in God…when there are finally gluten-free chocolate rectangles.
Feisty Quill explores hairstyles, aging, and mortality. Bangs.
I’m old, my printer light is on all the time, and I lived through the invention of the internet. Oh, and I still have a landline.