Brooke Wake > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

This poem-book or chapbook is dedicated to my best friend of six years who was, in fact, a horse. RIP, Brenna. 06/15/02-12/12/10.

Sometimes we feel seismic clutter a little too closely near our souls. And we must listen to it.

This stemmed from a writing prompt and an night of tearful expunging. I hope it makes sense to you all.

This appeared on my page while eating salsa.

I don't know where the heck this came from. I wrote during my 10 minute break at work today.

The first of perhaps many little meanderings, created beneath the hustling, clanging, melee of a fast-food chain's squalid kitchen.

I like verbose titles sometimes.

Girl like meta.

Distant reflections.

A poem of the senses.