Category: Spirit

  • wedding bells sound the news your body's been foundscatter ricethrow the dicevegas resounds with tourist traps and vicewhile the tides rise along the left coastfishing boats are lost at seanow it's just you and meto navigate this soundscape without your discordant chords

  • The pain that has drained Vicki since she was a little girl is her mama's inability to see a situation from more than one (mama's own singularly unique!) viewpoint. In fact, just between us, Vicki's boarding a plane without her ever-present appendage and will be touching down among swaying palms in time for pupus. I…

  • We stared at a map on the wallDuring a break from paying our dues Just you and me and the man in the treeLens focused on capturing what cannot be seenA howl from the other room warned of a time to comeThat would define us all too soon Like brilliant silver light from a dying…

  • there’s a hollow place that fills the space in which you once presidedwoodland imagessisters gathered at a picnic tablebeers all around and one glass of wine strange inflection on second syllableshands that were the object of a stranger’s admirationa son whose name is the same as my own your journey now is one of real…

  • Hey '23! Embrace the new role of Chief Intuitioner. Set the intention to create, not ruminate. Read more, scroll less. Doom is in the eye of the idle. Don't expect the goal line to move toward you. A wish that leaves no heartbeat quickened is bound to become another daydream that'll lead you further from…

  • Tomorrow is not a promise, but it is a reason to turn the page. As scattered as one's attention may be, there is a path to be found through the misdirection. Strategy is more than projection. Every idea is an invitation to define one's purpose. Restlessness is what propels the impulse to create. Creation isn't…

  • A blessing in the skies looks different to each of us. This morning as I looked up in the 6:45 a.m. heavens, scattered with puffed and wispy salmon-tinted clouds, I saw my beloved schnauzers Jethro and Bruno scamper about on a biscuit-shaped cumulus congestus that rolled past my house. That's when it occurred to me,…

  • Who's story am I allowed to tell? Can I hand over free rein to my imagination so it can wander unchecked as it dictates the rules of an existence lived outside of my skin? The safe play is to write what I know; access to opportunities and the freedom to consider more than one path…

  • Disarm me with your charms, but know that your personality is problematic.(Yeah – don't know which one of us is the addict.)But here we are in the woods, a stare-down in progress.Each one of us casts a light of varying intensity, all in the service of demanding transparency.Disrupting the other in an unfolding tale of…