Dripper Jackson Pollack master mixologist in his studio contemplating the formula for the perfect purple          two drizzles azurite three drools pyrope four plops phosphorite three sprinkles cinnabar pure vivianite with a trickle of vermillion a splash of tungsten a splay of…

I haven’t any answers You haven’t any clues The question is often asked When something doesn’t ring true Often confused with feelings and contradicting thoughtless acts the paths of knowing and doing may not always tract. Because love is not a gift, given in the…

How do you get to the center of the moment? Is it on the in-breath? Or on a lark? I’ve never ridden a bird before but I do like to fly

Acrophobia Fear of heights be damned, the Earth is flat, that’s easy enough to prove If only I could walk up to the edge, but I can’t bring myself to move I don’t need to take a photo just to make you see The edge…

A calloused brain, exhausted eyes cracking fingers making tools a few strange notions: symptoms of interfacing will the grand all-encompassing WHAT? harder to do when we lost our view of the stars, replaced now by car headlights, heatless flame pacing around cages tenants in a…

Heart Breaking Chest tightening Butterflies fluttering Shallow breath Hyperventilating Sweaty palms Constant thoughts I can’t stop any of this

Every move you make Every dance you shake Every smile you give Every day you live I’ll be loving you Every time you cry When life goes awry Every stint you’re mean Whether dirty or clean I’ll be loving you Every time Every day Every…

What love is not Cinderella and the glass slipper rather it’s slipping on the glass and given a hand to stand up; What love is not Sleeping Beauty awakened by a kiss after a hundred years of sleep rather it’s being brought breakfast after sleeping…

What is Love?  You may ask. To me it’s living without a mask. Love is not sex or romance as society may say. It’s lifetime commitment, come what may. Respect, honesty, loyalty, communication, all parts of love. To forgive and forgive again like from above….

M.M.I.W (Murdered, missing indigenous women)   Many mothers Missing the lives of their Infant children growing up, Weeping families demanding justice.