Sleek and liquid as melted chocolate it slips through my cells. Enrobed in delicious delirium, I am an unaware time traveller, prisoner to pieces of yesterday hurling into tomorrow.

Daylight spills over the edges of the mountain. It is morning and I have not slept yet. Seems I should let go, or be dragged. This pen pieces prose, or poems almost by rote. I struggle to determine it’s value or valor. Seems I should…

Slumber Virginia Carraway Stark Resting When cheekbones Start to feel numb From wishes of slumber coming on Darkness covers the world Like a blanket of water But sleep isn’t for me tonight No matter how it may coo and call Increasingly shutting eyes Feels better…

The cows are lowing tonight in the field below our small, white house. It reminds me of my babies, many years ago, in their small, white crib. I would sit with them, lowing, and rocking, and giving milk to their thirsty lips. We sustained each…

When the stars shine they erase some illusion and even the mystical is included in this universe. Too new to remember. Too old to forget.   And yet, we do forget to observe, to shine, and reflect, and remember. This is all illusion. Our fabricated…

Night Virginia Carraway Stark Darkness settles In the wind and the mist That rise up from the wild clay soil Like a cool cloak Of dark moon splendour The gloaming is alive With tendrils of fog that seek All that is warm and safe Stars…

I tiptoe across night, and broken syllables I am a poem thief.

The Medicine Man in Hill City rode in on a Crazy Horse. While I struggled to hold his committee I was swept into his light source. Behind his golden gates stretched across heaven and Earth he told me of many fates tied directly to my rebirth….

Magic is the making of rhyme Out of tiny sweeps, and ticking time Reaching into the ethers eternal To extract a small, ripe kernel That bursts into bloom!

You slipped from memory to remembrance too slowly to be easy. I knew it would be that way when we met. Youth carries it’s risks like a coat over the arm. I cannot trace time backwards to your door anymore. The trail is cold as…