Take the pie and run, I say. True north may just be a solitary way. Great poem!
Methinks True North is an illusion anyway!
does anyone ever find true north...but fingers in the folds of the map spinning compasses sounds rather fun...ha...not sure i want buttermilk and bourbon though...
sometimes it's all about contrasts and who cares about true north anyway...ha
Lucky for me, I can't tell North from South...
Excellent, I read it darker than others but it could be because as a child I once put buttermilk and apple juice together and got terribly sick. We have to be as we are and there's no happy chemistry sometimes.
Thought-provoking... true north.
Officially ~~ gobsmacked!
..aww... girls are complicated! hihi...
I don't know if I would need true north at that point---
This is a sensuous summer poem.Buttermilk PIE would make a great pairing with bourbon, I imagine.
Eh, that's what GPS is for -- much prefer "mossy from both sides of the tree." Very lovely.
I'll never look at a map in quite the same way again, MZ. NOt sure whether to thank you for that or not!
I love the lines of being a mossy girl from both sides of the three. evokes my time as a boyscout... how can you find true north... I'll have a buttermilk and bourbon straight please.
I adore the sensuality and maybe its best to keep true north hidden away ~
I have just one word for this, and I say it with a grin: AWESOME! Yeah, it rocks.
That chick knows a thing or two. Written with style!
Thanks for the warning. Sometimes, though, it's not so bad to get lost...
I may not ever find true north with you, but I always find truth, magiczenmama
The map analogy is so strong, sensual, sure. Like what you do, woman. Like what you do.
I love this... Every line. You leave me smiling.
first I read bossy. then I saw mossy. and then I thought buttermilk pancakes with a bourbon chaser in the syrup. and then I saw fingers in the folds and think it's time to stop writing now.
We can only find it ourselves, within ourselves, which is what you're saying in your amazen style.
I have no sense of direction, naughty naughty I love it
buttermilk and bourbon! Wow, never tried that, but I do know how to find my way through the folds, be it north, or be it south!!!!!
So quirky and strong. I love your description of yourself as mossy on both sides of the tree and bourbon and buttermilk got my attention right away.
Being lost is usually half the fun...north, south, up, down..this is a gem, so smart and sharp.
Lovely little poem, mama. The ending is delightful, sometimes it is nice to get lost :)Pamela
Maybe not, but Ah!... it would be fun trying! Great little poem!
Daddy Zen is a lucky guy because on the strength of the tone alone I want to hold the compass. The title and final shot are just perfect and alluring and pregnant that mystery of the female oooooosssssssshhhhhh! (which isn't very articulate but words fail!) but most of all if someone ever said this to me IRL I would die a thousand deaths of melting happiness: We go togetherlike buttermilk and bourbon.a real peachy pocketful of tasty PO.cheers mama
Never steer by a human when you can use stars, I say--this is what I love about your writing--always ten miles of truth on a two-block street.
Bourbon may curdle the buttermilk, but how else are you gonna make cheese?
I love this..You'll never find true north with me.
Brilliantly creative. Love everything about it. "You'll never find true north with me." I'm sure that's what my husband thinks about me. lol
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