everything is arbitrary now,
you see.
i am grateful for
the small accidents:
a broken china cup.
spilled white sugar.
a burned fingertip, a razor
nick, a
blown-out bulb.
these things force me
out of the ether and into
my bones
make me BE, Jesus
please
just where i am
planted in the earth. it hurts
it hurts. the salt of the
earth, it hurts.
this salt of the earth
is dangerous
to tender slugs born sans armor
but
i am still
here.
jjc 1.20.11
janice j. cunningham 
I Love this!
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Reblogged this on wordswurdswirds and commented:
A friend and fellow slug from twitter just broke my heart with words and images. <
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Allo fellow Tweep! Great to hear from you here! I’m going to have to check out YOUR blog when I get home later. I haven’t had time to breathe which explains my insanity. Lack of O2 to cerebral cortex. SLUG? HA! “Knuckle Tat: ….” that was hilarious! ❤ props to you my friend. Love, JJ
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