Home I fell apart (we need you together) I fell through (we need you safe inside) I fell down (we need you up here) I need to find my way (we need togetherness) I searched myself and got lost (we need to find you) I…

Belonging opening up and sharing as the ground is met it’s about being heard – my whispers go right through the dead air or even the occasional “hmm – hmm” no longer affects me as it once did there is a time and the moments…

A Modern Response to Euripides’ The Medea Jason messed with the wrong Corinthian in that ancient play about the dangerously pissed off Medea, the “X” of your nightmares. Jason starts knockin’ boots with Creon’s daughter, a genuine princess with a royal bank account balance. Jason…

They stand against the glass, eyes the color of cinnamon, curry, chocolate. Dusty, grimy, a decade’s hand-me-downs of bright pattern that cries of hungry mouths, of hungry bellies rotund not with satiety, mimic fecundicity. Tiny hands outstretched, eyes pleading, we need, we want, we desire. In…

He Calls Home Those who are called home often see the familiar welcoming the sights @ Renee Avard-Furlow June 13 2015

Trust You made it, and I’m so proud look at the way you handle the now You faced me with all you had and now you see I am not that bad Once you see I am another part of you you’d never question what…

Boogeyman Don’t look back, don’t turn around do you really want to be found? Check the cell, no damn reception did you think you’d be the exception? Trying to flee and the car doesn’t start it seems that none of you are very smart Girls…

Even If I Have To I’ll take your abyss and even if I have to walk on a tightrope the seemingly mundane lights up all of this I sink deep into your soul I don’t even need air no struggling to get away where you…

The Treasure It was in the soft moonlight in the after hours of her job where he came by her office and said his ‘good morning’ even though it was still dark she wanted him to be honest because she knew this one thing he…

I could write a book on you. Lines mark boundaries, your hair an unwoven curtain. There are some places that not even the sun can touch you. I could write a novella of those eyes, dark sad depths that they are. A sonnet for your…