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I was a kaleidoscope for the longest time. I could spin like a Dervish and from every angle a new shade of crimson or blue was there to..

Don’t you dare die on me you son-of-a b*tch, Betelgeuse... Orion’s Shoulder! I mean! C’mon, You have been there through..

It was poetry night at The Brew; people laughed and clapped backs, ordered their espressos and lattes, found a chair, sat at tables and lo..

I remember that slow burn when the kindling was ashes and the logs caught yellow and blue-- The wink of embers in a drift of b..

Just another poet, straight, gray ponytail, dangles down her back, gaunt hands make elegant, slow movements while she listens. She ..

Waiting for the mic at Bean Central... See that one over there with the scowl carved around the corner of his mouth, and the heavy..

At my age, I have found fantasy is the seasoning to make reality palatable. Your red smile, flashes of white and the curl of..

A perfect circledoes not exist in nature,nor a straight line, butthereisa perfect point. I’ve known about sandspurs since the first time I wo..

Out here in these woods, my home rests on a hill where we cut a shelf to make room for a patio, the house and ten feet of front ..

My roots are long and deep, they curl through dirt, between rock and water, seeking more in the underground darkness of an earlier..