September 8, 2021 How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard
July 17, 2021 Soul sorrow brandishes her, dispossesses and stuns her.
June 25, 2021 Who's to blame? The preverbal switch-a-roo, so to say. I like to think that it's others, but it's usually me.
June 18, 2021 Burnt air tastes of ash and smoke. Specks of lined paper rise up on a sweeping current into the sky.
June 9, 2021 The boy's spine curled forward, similar to a shaved orange peel, though he clearly wasn't an orange.
October 31, 2015 Masks and frightening costumes,
scaring friend and stranger alike.
Stringed glow sticks, bulbous spiders,
spindly legs, warped goblin heads,
rotten teeth, foul breath.
October 28, 2015 A life filled with living creates many memories, sometimes not so readily remembered, at least not all that accurately. When I was a small child, I started a journal, my attempt at anchoring my life, though I know I wouldn't have called it that then.
October 28, 2015 Horizontal winds blow, invisible,
scissoring through trees and yellowing grasses.