fable of a fairy tale One of Aesop’s foxes ; Ted, Goldilocks’ Papa Bear ; & Little Red stirring it through Soviet 60’s suburbia in the strident bright sunshine. Cinderella has run away to the city (again) & they want to bring her home (again)…

Fresh out of inspiration, I seek the shooting stars– see three bright slashes in infinite distance and several pretty close (the latter, moths, which streetlamps make almost comparable). A cloud of spiderweb blurrily catches light between electric wires. My heart ticks against my ribs, quivers…

Stuttering, she answers in staccato lines, willing herself to speak out,

Dear 1986 Self, I was once told I had a bright future, But I never bought the shades or learned to read the map, so losing my way has been the least of my worries. Though your effort noble, the dissipation of faith in (of…

There’s a rhythm in my chest, beating out a tune, one of my best, it’s the closest beat to me, it keeps me alive, (even when I’ve never took it for a test drive).   I was a born with a heart, not just to…

You remind me of: That special moment when everything you thought would go wrong; goes right The type of day when storms are forecast but instead the sun comes out new and bright The breath of celebration when you’ve accepted failure, only to realize that…

Dear you, I am you, I am your failure, don’t look around but look at me. Look at your failure Because you always run away whenever you see me You rant at so little time, at so little opportunities, at your misfortune, at your loveless life.  …

Sometimes… I think of that tree. I think about you~ and I think about me.   Sometimes… I feel the bark at my back. Our limbs entwined~ and your body in mine.    

Open my nose to gratitude’s aroma. Open my ears to love’s exhale. Then I will truly glorify, illumine, fortify, and inspire. Please provide comfort and healing, and my tongue will speak wisdom. Giving thanks in expression, with tributes exuding my very soul.

Whispering in terror fearfulness apparent in wide, translucent eyes begging the silent to hear but she cannot scream she cannot hear there is only the nothing that comes when unanswered pleas become shouts of regret there is nothing to be done there is nothing to…