Browsing around, kicking over rocks, glow worms wiggling.
Like Carrie Seitzinger’s “Secret Pages I” (read the rest too, but this one ruled extra).
That beginning, as the speaker says of the night, “lulls us,” I think, as readers, but then it shifts, tumbling poemhead-first into yearning. Clever lines, too, poked me tenderly: “Let me hold it in the palm of your bed” and “Hold my navel under your tongue/if you think you want to speak to my center.”
Extra points for the title! And the story talks all sorts of oddness, about age, about relationships, about awkwardness. It also teaches about resolution. I mean, seriously, I keep reading that ending, beautiful description, last turn of dialogue, DANG.
Though only one post in, this one about Bobby Hebb, I’m looking forward to Stout’s adventure into exploring 45’s and their place in music culture. It’s cool to see a lit-heavy place dedicate some space to music, that beautiful beautiful friend.
Once, this Smalldoggies thing gets more content, more contributors, it seems destined for ultimate coolness. All those drop down menus and categories equals a colorful smattering of voices, ideas, faces. MOST IMPORTANTLY LOTS AND LOTS OF WORDS. Quantity isn’t everything, you know, but quality quantity rules. Thanks, Smalldoggies.