Hello loves, I've been trying my hand at continuous contour line drawings to pair with my haikus. Here are some that I've done so far. Enjoy!
Continuous Contour Line Drawings
I Pass
Do you think I look up to you perched on your high horse saying it's my choice to love more than one and that choice is wrong? Do you think it's okay to shout, "You're not gay! Stop sinning, start winning my praise!" as if your praise is what I spend my days longing for?... Continue Reading →
Uncomfortable
Does it make you uncomfortable to digest this defective conception that we, with two flowers, stems, and one humble home for some potential someones ~flower children~ must collect the soft pillow they’d have laid their little heads on in a soppy, sloppy bandage, or else cork the very rite of passage they didn’t go through,... Continue Reading →
To A Young Girl
Listen closely, pretty girl, to these words. Others will lie and say they are not true and that you must focus your energy on keeping that pretty look. But that is a lie. You might think that you are less than the girl with blue eyes or blonde hair or clear skin or subtle curves... Continue Reading →
How Can I Convince Her?
I tell her how damaging diet culture is and how it makes us think we must shrink ourselves and deprive ourselves of so many good things, and she nods, agrees, then takes a bite out of her meal bar. I tell her eating less than 1500 calories a day can cause lasting harm to her... Continue Reading →
Ode to Intense Red-Blonde 6.66
To my scarlet letter strands, thank you for being the mane that can never be a rein allowing a man to guide me as he rides me in the wrong direction. Thank you for being the mane that slaps men in their red faces ashamed of the cat calls I confront. Bellowing out my siren... Continue Reading →
Not Just A Season
When I think of the possibility of you and me being just a season, of these falling leaves indicating impending winter, my tree's branches crack as it is simultaneously uprooted, and the hole left behind is a thoracic crater. The soil is rich with insect memories crawling in and out of my brain. Clicking legs... Continue Reading →
Promise Ring
Sounds like bells drip off your lips pooling into a pond of promise. Vows ring out of golden tulips singing sweet petal soft sonnets. Whispers become songs from sanctuary towers chiming a reminder of time. With time comes growth and volume rises lifting you up Liberty’s spine. In this tower lives a bell so bulbous... Continue Reading →
Abuelo’s Wordplay
Ahora no se dice panetela. Se dice patenela. ¿Pa tener que? yo digo To have what? A sense of humor, I imagine is not enough. La panetela, he says Y tu no tienes catarro. Tienes carrato. ¿Cada rato? I ask. Si, de vez en cuando. So, I can have my cake and eat it, too... Continue Reading →
Aly Luna's Media Villa 