The wind rustled her hair as she walked along the shore. Her smile hid the fact that inside her raged a war. She walked to and fro, moving along with the tide. The sounds of the ocean helped heal the pain inside. She stopped for…

On Fire That careless hand (manicured, fine long fingers) lingers, then flicks – and the yellow straw grass lining the highway sighs before it sparks (neither in the car look behind them – the road ahead leading to paradise) and the wind exhales its breath;…

Into the stillness of a dream The day had been what it’d never been Wide swing, warm coffee, chilly day; Words flowed from fingers, come what may When up I glanced, to a tattered blue And a stylish shirt; it was only you They say…

She is writing her self-portrait Rolling words within her mouth Like the finely pointed tip of a brush Its camel bristles viridian green While the broader brush beside it Glistens with a simpler blue Simple as mountain air is simple Blue with the evening damp…

Respect, the ability to feel ok with me the ability for me to feel ok with me with you The ceasing of your crazy that ability you have to make me not feel ok an unkind word, a quipped response, click of the call ending…

At 150,000 miles the sun appeared a reddish dot against an indistinct grey sky its color a clever cover for the furnace within Bleary-eyed and a bit numb I drift through my morning routine thinking of as little as possible because I know what happens…

I do not shear my hair, Have never donned flannel, Know nothing about drywall Or changing my oil. No labrys tattoo Slices across my bicep. I do not sing in the key of rainbow. I roar through the world, fat, elegant, and loud. rolls slapping…

They — the ubiquitous, omnipresent they — Told me Loudly, and in no uncertain terms That I was not sad. That I was better off, really (so much better off, honey, really). They — the all-knowing, all-seeing they — Told me Frequently, so that I…

I cannot tell you how I miss you. Cannot explain how my heart quickens at the thought of your voice; how my stomach clenches with anticipation at the thought of your gaze. I cannot tell you how you made me laugh. Bright days of summers…

i would sing its myriad moods a choppy conglomerate neither soft nor raucous measured nor clipped with open mouth and searching eyes above a rolling continuo of ocean surf its full-throated harmonies a dance, beat, bursts of symphonic grandeur and quiet string trios, a gentle…