Hour 1

It has been ten years since I last set foot into a bodice of water. It’s not that I don’t shower, or take a bath from time to time. I used to say I don’t like to swim. I don’t like to exercise the power…

Frida Kahlo – Hour One

I very much enjoy the conversations you and I have in my head, The rambling dialogues cast from my bed (For different reasons I am anchored to mine much of the time) Where we find comfort in commonalities – Teachers who valued connection over hierarchy;…

Am I, Though?

An iamb is inherently a paradox of poetry Transparently trochaic, it cannot contain itself. Poor thing, it is Its own antithesis, and as such might be my spiritual synthesis As I am, also, set against myself; depicting what I am not Form fascinates me, yet…

The Perfect Place

Crushed copper scented breath The final drops drying fast Early morning mist, kissing my gossamer face The perfect precipice for soaking in the sights and sounds of the raging rocky river below My familiar dark sky starting it’s journey into softness and light For time…

Dysfunctional Friendship

How do you know when it’s truly over? How do you deal When the friendship has to end? Wishing you could go back And know you can’t move forward. Dealing or not dealing when you think it has to end. When two people meet And…

Hour One: The doors on the right will open

You will step out onto the platform into the humid embrace of the summer afternoon You will melt as you melt into the crowd of which you are a part but from which you are completely apart The streets of Shibuya will suck you out…

In the ocean

Cool and calm, just floating along. Living effortlessly, you envy me?   My arms flow with the tide. I’m just along for the ride, waving like a tree in the wind.   Underground, below the sea, anchored for eternity. I am seagrass. post for hour 1