17 Apr, 2018

The Suicide

2018-04-17T16:18:56+00:00April 17th, 2018|Writing Encounters|

I gangled all gawk and yaws, flesh blooming into the ill-fitted vestment of birth. You looked beyond the frill and lace ironed mirror flat against itself and, living the miracle, made me see its ineffable wonder so that I could [...]

14 Apr, 2018

Everyone Suffers Moments of Alienation

2018-04-14T22:11:57+00:00April 14th, 2018|Writing Encounters|

Fiona has it all. Everything. Tall. Beautiful. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Rich. Influential. Charismatic. Nothing can stop her. She is the It woman of Beverly Hills. She rattles off Louis Vuitton and Jimmy Choo accessories like they're pieces of cantaloupe. A shopping [...]

11 Apr, 2018

Hope Declared Dead

2018-04-04T00:37:34+00:00April 11th, 2018|Writing Encounters|

Hope was declared dead today or so the headlines read, and I read those headlines in spite of myself for if hope was dead, why read further for reading further would infer hope was alive, and if hope was alive, [...]

11 Apr, 2018

A Sign of Books

2018-04-11T13:04:47+00:00April 11th, 2018|Writing Encounters|

Bars need neon, clothing stores need novelty, restaurants need food...books only need a time worn sign.       Photo by César Viteri on Unsplash

5 Apr, 2018

Damage

2018-04-05T00:48:36+00:00April 5th, 2018|Writing Encounters|

Girl hitches a pin to the torn and tattered frock surrendered to dance upon a dry fall breeze. She tenders the clothesline across the yard filled with the rusting cadavers of a decade. A toaster from her mother's marriage lays [...]

18 May, 2017

Dancing Life

2018-02-03T02:20:15+00:00May 18th, 2017|Writing Encounters|

Living is like dancing ... You Waltz Salsa Improv 2 Step Dirge Ghost. Alone. Together. The line from free will to destiny is a Spirit dance. The choice commits between the boundaries of that which can only be seen and [...]

21 Jan, 2017

Tree of Life

2018-02-03T02:23:03+00:00January 21st, 2017|Writing Encounters|

TREE OF LIFE In the mist enveloping the scene, Those great Druids in my dreams stood poised to scythe the fruit of their tree, sacred CRANN BETHADH.   In my dreams, childhood reflections, they were more like the trees Grandfather [...]

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