by Jamie Rivenberg | words
There’s a party in the gravestones, dear The beggarmen all dance Poverty is not the drug That has them in a trance Bending moving shaking frames No music in their rhythms Culture found beneath the line Beyond the social schisms The partygoers every night Are vagrant...
by Jamie Rivenberg | words
she was beautiful in the most unique and special way as only a complete stranger can be… at least in my mind… every inch of her skin glowed as if reflecting the shimmer from her perfectly styled shoulder-length hair… I dreamed at that moment of a hundred years...
by Jamie Rivenberg | life
They stared at her amazed. But they would never know her secret. She couldn’t really fly. She just hovered and let the world spin beneath her. – Rivenberg
