Now for something darker — I am so excited to announce that I have published my second collection of poetry and short stories. Soon We’re All Gone to Seed is a compilation of scary, strange, and dark visions. I meant to release this book last October, but you know, time just goes by. After releasing…

The Magical Sensory Experience of Being Alive — “Because this business of becoming conscious, of being a writer, is ultimately about asking yourself, How alive am I willing to be?” ― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life Why am I a writer? If I could spend most of my days writing, in chosen isolation, I probably would. But…

Prose poem: How have words written you? — time bandits, crayons melting, and a whole town — she’s mayor and witch doctor — she keeps lists of the population in a blue spiral, the whole fictional census — world-building from dream travel tire swing on the hill — overlooks Platypus Garden — the cauldron rests just beyond teenagers’…

Prose poem — it’s their kind of fun — playing thrones in a Triumph convertible, an elitist high with little room for a bustle like some countdown until the ball drops, they make it (out) alive is there anybody in there — she smiles — the brunette Barbie; he — some off-brand, red-headed Ken —…

Prose poem & Sky Collection Quote Prompt № 34 — “Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you.” — Rumi One origins want setting, perhaps where is an arbitrary question in the grand span — the bridge, too un-elemental to take us anywhere still, the liquid drips and fire (contained) spits steam if we could only balance the forces we…

Prose-poetry — I think less of a hormone drop than I should — coming in waves like slow rising panic — domestic and mundane — an endless quest for dust and animal shed — it crests as exhaustion, mental static — mountain morning fog the list grows — growls, in fact — Sundays on the last night of summer — I cannot hold the door — the flood, the levee, the forgotten rhythms of a season well-trodden a locust chorus, a stained bathtub, I’m absent except for the picking scabs — breathe, she says — I’m here, you’re here, we’re here a drop of blood, the high-pitched everything

When Covid-19 was raw — Dear Grocery Girl, Just to be clear, I am stalking you. I’ve had my eye on you since you grabbed the last mini-cart in the parking lot. Your mask dangles over your ear like some forgotten bra on the clothesline, left out in the rain. You have lipstick on. Lipstick…

Etheree on nostalgia — time and sea dousing me in memory like sisters, friends stay divine mother — lighthouse dragging sand like losses pull our aging bodies, pipers, gulls but years do keep like children’s laughter the souls who meet life before and after I was just at the beach with my lifelong friends…

Show me your doors and bulletin boards — Dearest Educators, How are you feeling about the new school year coming up? Do you still get excited like I do: creating new rosters and reimagining your space? Maybe (like me) you have bought a few more flair pen sets than you actually need. So I am starting my 24th…