A poem — wind is rudderless — returning to my door with sibilance pushed against sticks, against skin I argue with it —find a home elsewhere — I try again though it seldom listens, as my feathered skirts flirt and distract from the incessant wounding of my declining self wrapped around emptied words…

A story of discovery — When stories find a nest, they grow into things like novels, sometimes epic tales of importance with important people telling themselves about other important people. Not this story. This is more like a bridge to an epiphany. …

An unintended poem —

A small poem —

A story in free verse — I was five, my sister 4, the day we learned about trees and women, and exchanges between the two. How, you might ask, did such a lesson occur in this world of concrete snarls, its ether so heavy with fatigue — bend an ear this way. I have to whisper so…

A Response to a Prose Poem Prompt — Dear Papa, you left us early daughters, wife, sons fractured like so many bird bones set free on the wind. I am sending this to you, no address — postmarked today ether can deliver as easily as memory, as easily as birds left to their own devices. I dream of…

The Path of Possibility —

Sometimes, water can guide you — Back presses against stale brick wet mortar retreats, gossiping fence posts rake news across untended wires while a murder of crows shapeshifts according to need. Miseries lie down by your toes The trick is to learn to walk on them again wear them down until they feel like dust— Stand…

The fullness of acceptance and healing —