So many places to visit…in my mind’s imagination. Yet… Before Lockdown, there were excuses: expenses, time, obligations and the list goes on. And on. Or, you just book a ticket and travel. That was me. Now, I sit quietly and imagine … that I am…

Following the Prompt for Hour 12 (2020 – Half) using Deborah Duffield’s memoir: “Imprisoned in a Body with a Life Sentence” (abuse survival). {TRIGGER WARNING!!}   Life began at age 3 – but only with 1/2 of the glee; It began with a pain, I…

I miss thee terribly: You can ne’er be farther from touch; I wish thou I can see, Let me within thy arms to be.   8:00 PM Poem Elizabeth Wingert This is my final poem for the marathon. It’s been so much fun doing it…

Hearing I ask from all the tribes, greater and lesser, the offspring of Heimdall; Father of the Slain, you wish me well to declare living beings’ancient stories those I remember from furthest back. ~First line of The Poetic Edd; Seeress’s Prophecy.~ Taking steps into the…

We wrote scores of scars All over our bodies But that was enough–for now.

clamor of the clarinet and fiddle, and it’s happening right now. Michael Chabon Manhood for Amateurs final line.       Clamor What I knew seems lost amidst the clamor of lies and social distancing and how many nutcases there must be for our president…

The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. Far from it He was as farthest from magic a man could be with his tiny glasses perched at the end of his nose a small, wiry frame and wispy thin white hair almost ready to…

A faint mist of vaporous emotion wettens the eyes The surface shudders as sublayers are drawn never looking more fragile, A titan of warmth and strength. leaving deformed shelter and drenched disappointment. Too many, too close. unexpected diabolus ex machina. drawing the eldritch sigil that’s…

Here be dragons mark the places on the map Marking the point where facts and knowledge ended And the wild places of the world beyond. Where dangerous monsters dwell Obviously now we know that dragons no longer exist We drove them out with our reason…

Forever Bound Grief is like a rusty chain wrapped tightly ’round a tree trunk, slowly sinking deeper into the wood, weighing heavy on our hearts, suffocating, stealing the light from our eyes and the oxygen from our lungs, until one day we awake, only to…