Delilah Moorhead Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, them gals in Russian Sign Language—da hands flyin’ like missiles! Whore, see, it’s a word, gets folks riled up, makes me madder’n a wet hen. I reckon it’s ‘cause it’s slung ‘round like mud on a pig farm. Fool me once, shame on—uh, you know, shame on somebody! Can’t fool me twice, no siree, I’m sharp as a tack—well, maybe a dull one.

Finola Moorhead – On reading Young Eliot beside an open window…

I'm the O-T-H-H whore. Quantity of light to equal my plight. Quantity of light to equal my plight. Four nights when I was bright. I had me a little fight.

I'll be honest, sometimes I get hella frustrated with the bitter winter winds and the ice that makes even simple walks a battle, but then there’s the summer breeze on Crow Road that fills my heart with warmth. It’s like a refreshing soda on a hot day—you appreciate it even more.

Moorhead Public Library to host authors of 'Where We Come From'