Knitted...Knotted...Mirror... Mirror...

Robin eye-striking me twice yellow ringed piercing attention body too large for the perch gathered dead grass and mud attempting the...

little black kitty vibrates on my chest listening to the world wood, asphalt, and glass imagining the forest where rain fills the rivers...

styrofoam cup filled with a blessed morning capturing the message of the daily bread publication the ease of slumber forced off with...

this love is delighted by our own embers remember we are honest as a child soothed in arms of mother hunger before a plate of food a...

my blooming flower moving mouth opening…praying my core crystal shining spine cleaving…cleaning my kiss to the soil feather finger...

curled up in a cradle of curvaceous bone on one frigid summer’s day you entered ...thought to myself, I will be the one to stab you but...

sky blazed in orange and crimson full sun swooping gulls call with glee a warming soft inner pressed upward the ocean’s saltiness lingers...

fibrous ossein brittle… break creak hum till time rots wood center strong then grinds the rest to dust dead deep the wound of …a slow...

while raking leaves birds dart from perch to feed sprite and feathered Mid-November centered in my work the earth is cold yet busy with...

moments rooted like anchors exist timeless beyond configurations child leading her sister down the road, trusting truck bed staring...

tumbled, napped… dulced with visions of sephirah surfeits …soothed by spirited touch… light adulterations… loosening …dense plumes...

dipping in the shallows to find sweetness the nectaries so heavy and swollen swaying as the breeze welcomes workers tuffled in tension,...

Hills sides laid with summers spent clothes, swaths of crumbling orange and red Discarded, ready to transform from outer dressing to rich...

my motives called here to focus on me. a role to play. a boundary to protect. · identity me, I am absolutely...completely entangled onto...

It has been 4 months since I have felt like blogging. I have been in the mood to do just about everything else but sit at my computer. ...

The past is the past. I am not fully my past, but yet the past works it's self into my present. I see my mother and my grandmother...

Collectively- we are all social distancing ourselves. Guilty pleasure - I have enjoyed most of this time. It is not a secret though I...

It always seems to happen when I am elbow-deep into a project, covered in cobwebs, tangled in the laundry, wrestling with dust, shaking...

Today I found myself sitting among writers. I was attending a writing group in support of my beautiful friend and all her writing...

A lot is going on, so much so I haven't' been able to sit to write about all the new moments...new changes. I laugh at the word "changes"...