Rituals   I count my days ~ free from one of lifes worst addictions   documenting each day lived through pictures and words handmade   I will always  be an addict   I just choose other outlets   I count my steps as my consistency…

Destination Unknown I hopped in the car, destination unknown I had no direction in view I took off in the morning, for a break from the chaos But where I was headed, no clue Many choices before me – Air, land or sea And whether…

On Saturday mornings my son and I feed over two hundred hot meals to neighbors in need we plan and we prep and we count all the lunches we are truly the ones blessed      

Hour Twenty – Text Prompt: Write a poem about a routine or ritual that is part of your life. It can be something like making coffee every morning, or something like attending religious services once a week.   Dugga Dugga   Not sure how or…

I swim. At least thrice a week sink myself into the pool and forget why I exist. I swim into and against the flow. I dive so deep your hand has to find mine and pluck me out.  

Hour Nineteen 3:45 Dizdain Form Will you hold my hand as time passes on, or will you let go and lead me to fall? Will you remain with me in breaking dawn, or will you balk and lead me to nightfall? Will you love above…

Moon glow casts shadows on the closet door— geometric watercolors that flicker. I watch them for a while before turning toward the window and the grace of your bare arm: a luminous silhouette. My gaze travels along the smooth and curve of you, and finally…

Hour Eighteen 3993 Sun-stroked gardens season stained carpets of variegated color- the clean scent of greenery and herbs a pleasant arousal to the senses. The Chickweeds gather in droves clucking away with banter cleaving to the Cleavers until Evening Primrose. Goats Rue the interruption while…

exhausted we’re lost high on some tiny hills somewhere in a valley of paradise overlooking a misspelt ancient Spanish warfield dripping olives Ryan snoring at my feet wishing i was out under sun with dead (but now second life) wood baby in hand

Storm Salty air blows around in circles The breeze picks up seaweed from sand The current reacts to the gusts By crashing to the shore Seafoam swirls the rocks Shells dig in deep Safe from harm Black clouds Storm