There’s a mirror in every child’s bedroom every now and then, when you turn on the light a small flash pierces through the emergence – blink and miss it – some catch a glimpse of it, some never do, most don’t know what it is…

Plants go through cycles, each different and unique. Some grow, fall, regrow; some die after their peak. I see new life in the cactus on my shelf. I think it’s time to do some growing myself. I do not know my flower, I hope it…

When I vacuum, I sing   worship songs, praises to God, wishes for another life, a life that won’t fall apart with every turn, every look, every glance in another direction. A better life. I sing for mercy, for love that swells, swirls the heart…

Ray of sunlight slithering on my window Cuddle my pillow Buying a few minutes hugging my monster a little bit stretching arms and legs bowing head in bent knees whisper a prayer under my warm breath steaming coffee and crunchy french toast underneath the canopy…

As the moon climbs over the hill, The creatures out in the wild Wary of the noise, less heard And the air breathless There’s something awry in the air tonight Both mystical and dark, unclean, Shadows are lurking by old stone walls In wait for…

which came first the egg or the bacon? bacon in the oven egg in the pan if they’re on the bun at the same time what does it matter as long as the cheese comes after the milk.  

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

Virtual Timing Phone has been a silent sentry for weeks into this pandemic, robo callers extinct for lack of work. I’m on a Zoom poetry reading, mic on to read my poem at the open, and you guessed it, my phone rings. Not my cell…

A few streets away, a bridge connects two neighborhoods. In my dreams, there he stands, the faceless man Dressed in a tattered suit, he searches for a sound Hidden in the closet of my bedroom, I shudder silently The vibrations alone attract him closer to…

whenever the morning might be. Morning is all the time when “good morning” is your favorite roast. pages. flipped. flipped. flipped. read from someone inspirational and far better with words than I. Pages. Scribbled. Filled with my own hand. If there’s anything I’m thankful for…