• Carly Feinman

Day 27- 10.13.20

Smother me awake, little one

Each morning

while I'm still asleep

my ten pound dog

jumps onto my neck.

She then jollies up and down my torso

prancing happily along my ribs

and lungs, my spleen and stomach,

then back up to the neck.

She does this marvelous little tap dance

as if, should she fail to pitter patter upon my windpipe,

the world would just


cease to exist.


Recent Posts

See All

Day 44- 10.30.20

The Statue Grove Standing at the base of this family of redwoods, I am enveloped in shadow, in mosquito swarms and in the lengthy lineage of these silent, stoic beasts. I wait a beat, before turning b

Day 43- 10.29.20

It's molten, this energy I go down to the park just as dusk reveals a full, yellow moon hanging high in the sky like a journeyman's handheld lamp. I hear them before I see them. The dogs. The dogs tum

Day 42- 10.28.20

Side Table Still Life An empty glass, a Biden mug, half full with this morning’s coffee, a dusty cotton lamp, and a pen balancing on a couple paperbacks.