It always seems to happen when you think you are prepared something will go wrong when everything should go right. A coffee spill on your fresh mopped floor; shattered glass when you don’t have time to stop and clean. makes your blood boil even more….

There is horror in her gut Scraping and clawing Traveling through the rivers of her blood Begging for release   There is a rage in her hands That spills into silent moments Buried deep Deep Deep Searching for release Anguish twists her heart Molding it…

It’s Google Maps that guides us down this solitary road on our journey from Portland to the Oregon Coast. It is narrow and it twists through darkness and gloom. Huge moss-covered fir branches stretch above, blocking the sparkle of the sun. We pass decaying farmhouses…

Doom-scrolling I nightly travel without moving Wishing time away Wishing myself away Wishing me to be any me but ME Doom-scrolling I saw a tiny house in the woods Wishing myself elsewhere In that place, that time, that life That life – that me that…

A shift oozes into the darkness the gentle blending transitions quickly illuminating forms and shapes the darkness hides behind anything it can It shrinks But never disappears A glowing orb stretches across the horizon and blinds to look at it It makes everything seen.

Later than we meant to, we pulled into the campground, the lights from the guard gate glowing, bright yellow lines painted on the roadway guiding us.   At first we thought no one was there; then he lifted his sleepy head, chagrined, and signed us…

The Visitors’ Office A full moon hazed by mist Illuminated the night. Sentinel spruce and fir trees Stood to attention along the winding road. An information booth stood between two lanes— More windows than bricks— With its lights competing with the moon for brightness. No…

Early morning, in the quietness of my mind, I see your luring light as the yellow lines pull me towards you. Still relishing in my unvarnished thoughts of you, pure honest The leftover night air begins to lift as I try to wrap this goodness…

Inspired after Diana Khoi Nguyen line – The past draped upon us like a cloak   They are hidden They are pain They are words They are lies They are truths They are secrets They are protected They are you Scars    

A spiffy ranger station centered on the entry road (inky trees looming over what should be theirs) glows with artificial light welcoming and reassuring us human interlopers —— though no one in charge is present at this late hour.