The Library | Dream.

The writing’s on the table and he saw you there before … pulled up a seat for the unbound and humiliated whore. Or they said, as you walked red-faced down the aisle, saturated with books and wisdom beyond their tattered piles of waste and haste and everything that stuck like glue in world where they…

Unconditionally Falls Short Tonight.

Unconditionally falls short tonight, tempting disgust back through the door with rushing water polluted from resentment that floods over the threshold of where I once kept it at bay, giving you try after try. But I never had a chance to unleash it all because the veins opened up to the venom that sucked us…

Yet, I Do.

There isn’t anything in the Bible that says I have to miss you, yet, I do. I don’t know why this happens so abrubtly at times when I find my head hanging out the window like some dog in heat trying to feel relief from the wind that I only wish would sweep us away….

Mother of All Muses.

Previously published by Elizabeth Levine on Elephant Journal. “It’s through traveling you make the great journey into yourself, and it’s the clarity of extremes in traveling that forces you to meet yourself like you’ve never met yourself before.” ~ Carew Papritz “You can travel anywhere you want, you just need a companion,” they would all…

Empty Promises.

People are going to ask me if they can read it, to which I’ll respond, “Oh, hell no.” I don’t even know why this is because it is a novel after all. Maybe because it’s too personal right now. Too taboo. Too untouched. Too raw and too abrasive. After all, I’ve never admitted it before….

Unconditionally.

I got my knickers in a twist and put on my passive aggressive panties, when really – it was all out of fear, my love. Now I sit in silence, doubling-up on meds just to ward off the tears that haven’t flowed since I saw you last. And I fear I may never see you…

Drunken Dream Catchers | Poetry in Motion

Medusa’s on the table Dancing on Scarecrow’s brain, While Tin Man’s in the corner mending hearts, As the new girl waits in vain. Paul Bunyan’s on the shelf Sowing his wild oats, As Babe the Blue Ox forges lakes, Where the loons can crack their jokes. Liquored up and saddled in, The characters take their…

Yours. Truly.

The treehouse still stands on the edge of the sound, where the waves crash & tumble and the feathers are wrapped ’round dream catchers of the ancients, that once were lost now found. They tether their night terrors to the moon to reflect back to us as dreams at dawn, where the last hook is…