Madame X, an oil portrait by American artist John Singer Sargent, portrays the cool, patrician hauteur of a wife of a wealthy man who herself came up from nothing. Her face reflects uncertainty as if she can only spare but moment for the portrait and…

Act 1: Farmers Market Sniff sniff smile, vine ripened tomatoes Scratch scratch squeeze, hand-picked  lemons Act 2: Urban Kitchen Wash and prep, peel  and dice Stir and season, into the salad bowl you go Save the seeds for the rest of the show Act 3:…

I’m the best student in the school, the smartest student in the history of students, I can talk my way into an A before you can eat your lunch. You think you have an after school job? My job is the greatest after school job…

I’m not my mother’s daughter, I am my own machine. I stand tall, I walk proud, and I know how to act mean.   I’m the funniest person you’ve ever met. Most interesting, too. There’s absolutely nothing I’ve ever tried that I can’t do.  …

Sing me a song of eternal sunshine pocket full of broken stones   tall as the sky, deep as the ocean   Sing me a song of deepest night pocketful of dead stars   vast as the last galaxy, deep as a wormhole   Sing…

Everyday, at 6 a.m. she leaves her house from her warm bed. She sets up a stand outside the metro Selling little items you might need on the go. Chewing gum, chocolate bars, newspapers too, But one other item you need but never knew.  …

No rain in nearly two months. The sunshine is glorious, but with no access to an outdoor spigot or hose, I struggle to water the garden’s plants.   The balcony is long as the house, my mistress’s plants plentiful.   She’s turned her back. Again….

Hello little blue planet I’m worried about you I’ve been watching you You don’t look so well Did you stop taking care of yourself? Nestled in your celestial sky I’ve seen your past, present, and future I’ve seen your shiny whites and brilliant blues Luscious…

It’s like you dissected me, exposed me, beginning with the heart and slowly working backward through the ribs, the dermis Your idea of love is a poem you’ll never write. then outward leaving notes in my skin with your scalpel and delete line after line…

Bold dark deep brew fueled mornings wake the warrior for battle Sourcing hidden energy, intellect, stamina A sight to behold, generating tales to be told and followed Sometimes, the wind shifts, lightning strikes and scorches earth Breaking walls and infecting all that is healthy and…