Someplace Only We Know I dream of crisp Autumn mornings Watching the leaves drift down Snuggling on the porch under blankets with my loves The kids’ laughter dancing on the breeze I long for fancy holiday anxiety Helping my darling dress our Thanksgiving table And late night secret gift wrapping Christmas mornings in pajamas I want to photograph our birthdays, anniversaries, and milestones To grace our walls with love and make our house a home

Ohana Her childhood memories are all stained with a disconsolate anguish of Solitude...Isolation...Loneliness. An ache so deep in her soul It took half a lifetime to pinpoint. Overwhelmed by a flood of grief at this realization and yet It felt like recalling a long forgotten dream. It seemed that in…

Hope. Renewal. Reanimation. Sighing breezes, lightly warmed by the emerging Sun. Dormant life stretches slowly shaking off winter’s grasp all sharp — cold — edges. Grays and browns flare into brightly lit gems — color bursting forth. Everything that’s been off-kilter is righted once again — tenuous balance. Soon — too soon — scorching heat will come Followed by the slowing — bitter — killing frosts. Bringing the deafening silence — stillness that imprisons. The heavy gray that is never far from mind.

“You can wish as hard as you want for something to stay, but it will slip right through you, drift to the bottom of you as you stand, watching, watery, logged, bleating bloated blubbering, doing and holding nothing. Look at yourself, Biz. Do you see? pushandshoveandslap How useless/stupid/hopeless you are? Of course the waves should take you. Yes. Of course. They should.” ~Helena Fox — “How It Feels To Float”

Written: May 2015 Lips pressed to lips Hands pawing down my body A tongue furtively darting in my mouth A giggle building in my throat Yet a chasm grows inside My thoughts numb and indifferent My tenuous heart a distant echo Chemicals engorged on my emotions Isolating my existence, depleting the passion Leaving a sexually emaciated husk These surface connections mere trifling amusements

Written: May 17, 2015 Lurking near the edge This solitary she-wolf Seen as a menace Threatening establishments Set in place by other lovers Tanka (短歌, “short poem” ?) is a genre of classical Japanese poetry and one of the major genres of Japanese literature.

Written: June 28, 2018 Works from writing prompt game with my metamour Skin blushing in the scorched air The energy of impending night vibrating between us Sultry thoughts flowing in every cramped and devious part of our souls Falling into your eyes as the sun becomes bedded down beneath the blazing horizon Kissing his moon lover…

Written: 2004 When I was little, the world seemed huge and full of mystery; Like the worlds in the fantasy stories I used to read. Growing up, reality stripped away those amazing mysteries; Stinging, like ripping off a band-aid that’s stuck to your skin. Laying all day in the grass, oblivious to the passing of time. Watching the clouds form the shapes from the stories like fairies and unicorns. As a little kid, stories from books filled my head but growing up the stories became lyrics from songs. Without the fairies and unicorns life feels different. The feelings underneath seem to still be there but all the magic is gone.

Written: 2015 Splintered wood threatening to crack Soaked through from the icy spray Bob, bob, bobbing upon the choppy waters Oars clacking against the side with each stroke Thunder rumbling in the distance Angry clouds gathering on the horizon Skies darken at an alarming rate The Gods display their fury.