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S. Palmer Smith
Goodreads Author
Born
New York City, The United States
Website
Genre
Member Since
December 2020
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S. Palmer Smith
Coffee, walking, and more coffee.
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The Butterfly Bruises
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published
2021
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2 editions
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
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"This was a beautiful book, from the cover to the poems and stories.
There is so much life in this collection. You get a sense of moving with the author, through life and through different locations. While I enjoyed the entire book, the first two part" Read more of this review » |
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"Thoroughly enjoyed this story. Gripping, dark, romantic and sensual."
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"(4.5)"
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Jan 26, 2025 10:53PM
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“2001, NOKIA CELLPHONE
His first cellphone was slipped
into his hands on September 12th,
2001. The cover was the American Flag.
“It’s just... in case of emergency,”
his mother whispered to him.
As if the world had not ended,
had not evaporated already.
He still goes to school.
He hears myths on the bus about Hussein.
He donates his piggy bank to Fire Station 86.
In it is a 20-dollar bill and purple
pieces of toy soldiers.
He wonders if the soldiers’ hearts exploded.
He wants them back in the piggy bank.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
His first cellphone was slipped
into his hands on September 12th,
2001. The cover was the American Flag.
“It’s just... in case of emergency,”
his mother whispered to him.
As if the world had not ended,
had not evaporated already.
He still goes to school.
He hears myths on the bus about Hussein.
He donates his piggy bank to Fire Station 86.
In it is a 20-dollar bill and purple
pieces of toy soldiers.
He wonders if the soldiers’ hearts exploded.
He wants them back in the piggy bank.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“Butterflies would float up from our eyelashes. The
butterflies would turn from white cocoons to purple-winged creatures. The air would become purple, and all of a sudden, the butterflies would etch their
shadows across the ceiling. They would swarm into my brain and suck out every memory of us that I have. Then, I would be left with this one moment of us in this room, replaying itself like a still film frame over and over again.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
butterflies would turn from white cocoons to purple-winged creatures. The air would become purple, and all of a sudden, the butterflies would etch their
shadows across the ceiling. They would swarm into my brain and suck out every memory of us that I have. Then, I would be left with this one moment of us in this room, replaying itself like a still film frame over and over again.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“There isn’t much to say about someone who has been absent but then flows back into your brain slowly. Actually, maybe there is. There is a lot to say about you and how I love and hate you, and how I know that
this will be a continuous feeling.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
this will be a continuous feeling.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“Butterflies would float up from our eyelashes. The
butterflies would turn from white cocoons to purple-winged creatures. The air would become purple, and all of a sudden, the butterflies would etch their
shadows across the ceiling. They would swarm into my brain and suck out every memory of us that I have. Then, I would be left with this one moment of us in this room, replaying itself like a still film frame over and over again.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
butterflies would turn from white cocoons to purple-winged creatures. The air would become purple, and all of a sudden, the butterflies would etch their
shadows across the ceiling. They would swarm into my brain and suck out every memory of us that I have. Then, I would be left with this one moment of us in this room, replaying itself like a still film frame over and over again.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“There isn’t much to say about someone who has been absent but then flows back into your brain slowly. Actually, maybe there is. There is a lot to say about you and how I love and hate you, and how I know that
this will be a continuous feeling.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
this will be a continuous feeling.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“Fingernails transform into icicles. You try
to touch the mirror, but your hands melt just before you reach it. You back away from your reflection. She stays where she is, an immortal body of
broken bones, solidified by depressing thoughts. Stuck in the mirror with her name engraved in gold letters.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
to touch the mirror, but your hands melt just before you reach it. You back away from your reflection. She stays where she is, an immortal body of
broken bones, solidified by depressing thoughts. Stuck in the mirror with her name engraved in gold letters.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
“The snow glistened upon the hazy glass of the Italian diner window when she said, “We’re adults now. We will lose friends.” I cannot get this line out of my head.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
― The Butterfly Bruises
“2001, NOKIA CELLPHONE
His first cellphone was slipped
into his hands on September 12th,
2001. The cover was the American Flag.
“It’s just... in case of emergency,”
his mother whispered to him.
As if the world had not ended,
had not evaporated already.
He still goes to school.
He hears myths on the bus about Hussein.
He donates his piggy bank to Fire Station 86.
In it is a 20-dollar bill and purple
pieces of toy soldiers.
He wonders if the soldiers’ hearts exploded.
He wants them back in the piggy bank.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
His first cellphone was slipped
into his hands on September 12th,
2001. The cover was the American Flag.
“It’s just... in case of emergency,”
his mother whispered to him.
As if the world had not ended,
had not evaporated already.
He still goes to school.
He hears myths on the bus about Hussein.
He donates his piggy bank to Fire Station 86.
In it is a 20-dollar bill and purple
pieces of toy soldiers.
He wonders if the soldiers’ hearts exploded.
He wants them back in the piggy bank.”
― The Butterfly Bruises
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Great to hear from you, Bobbi. I am editing my novel (fictional) that involves gargoyles of NYC coming alive at night, so I figure I must read the Freeman Gill book to get more of a sense of the history I do not know. Surprisingly, there are not many gargoyle books out there. I appreciated your thorough review. Thank you for your commentary! Have a great rest of the summer.
S. Palmer Smith, I hope you do read 'The Gargoyle Hunters' by John Freeman Gill! I just wanted to tell you I have Edited the last half of my report, after I reread it... I was dumbfounded by that part of my report, all because I had to correct a 2-sentence mistake, that didn't belong to this story! But in doing so there was no stopping what I had to say, what came back to haunt me, and I would ask you to reread it, you might change your mind on whether you feel the same about it.? BTW thank you for your surprising Like.
