the teacher asks a direct question— her face the sun-bleached clam shell inspected by a gull— low tide sleepless— the nightlight is burned out listening to Billie Holiday again— candle drips he tells us about his auctioned house— rubbing my eyes

Red for the blood White for pure Blue for integrity Color My World Yellow sun The pink rose The orange sunset The day will close Green for money and wealth Brown for laboring at the belt Color My World with history Color My World with…

Relativistic perpetuation running rampant engulfing the turf Portending catastrophe, there is a loud crack, booming from behind The water cascades in, cacophony complete a thunderous rumbling underneath From the wall’s collapse, there is no return. Run There is nothing left behind ahead is full of…

An Elegiac Sonnet For Wilfred Owen, One of My Favorite Poets, Killed 4 November, 1918, Canal de la Sambre à l’Oise, France   Eleven months, eleven days, and where were you when they began to ring the bells to tell the world that everything you…

I hope I don’t dream tonight, dreams of creatures that exist by my side as I walk, as I work, as I laugh. Creatures who smile and tell me I’m pretty, creatures who are skilled in the art of flattery. I hope I don’t dream…

The Swallowtail Jig brings tears to my eyes. My Irish roots grounded in the family name Ellis. My father’s people came from the great isle of Éire the fire red in our hair testament to the fact we were the ‘true Irish.’ My father’s father…

The cool waters shimmer from turquoise to cerulean, While shrieking children dive and cannonball into the deep end. I sit here with my notebook, Shielding it from the spray. I should have brought my waterproof one. Thia may’ve been a mistake…

  Sun downing, reaching for so simple words, Forgetting faces and places where I did go— Is that my daughter? Do I dare eat a peach? My buttons—my thoughts—are just out of reach. Now I wear Depends and can’t cut with a knife, Don’t recognize…

#1 SENSATE Hearing colors and Seeing ocean’s salty roar A rookie mistake– Vocabulary Of love transcends black and white Erupting in red Until my brown Eyes cry #2 summertime; the blues wail through humid nights; crickets compete with trumpets Diane Morinich

Began this journey full of angst A sort of frazzled interpretation at first Maybe a niche has appeared It is not the nightmare once thought But an echo of past delight Getting lost along the way It was perhaps tantamount for growth Constantly falling and…