Tuesday, February 27, 2018


she was in the sky
floating with the stars
holding the moon in her hands.
she dreamed of the motherbed
and turned joys from sorrow
as she planted her feet
on the ground.

karly. karly.
she lives a life of bright patterns
with rainbows on her skin
and diamonds in her eyes.
her spirit still has wings
but she's given feathers to her children
so she can watch them soar.

karly. karly.
she finds balance through breath.
she spreads love through shapes
and color.
you can wash your skin
of her
but you can't take her
from your heart.

karly. karly.
sometimes she plays in the mud
sometimes she catches clouds.


she was a passenger
so she could watch
the passers-by
rather than the road.

one day she found her keys--
reached within
and took the wheel.

she memorized the stop signs
and found her own routes.

she won't take a word
for action.

sara. sara.

sometimes if she's not seen
for a while
you think she's a girl
but she's exceleration.

she's learning to trust herself--
she's a map.

sara. sara.

the mistakes of other's
lead her through traffic
and once she's on her way
there's no stopping her.

she'll teach you if you listen.
she'll love you if you're true.

sara. sara.

 the journey isn't over.


she went underground as a girl
and rode through tunnels
learning to let love in.
she holds the force of light
in her palms
and in the early hours of the day
she can see her value glow.
from effort
she will smile.

karol. karol.

the music
through her moods
and sometimes
she lets her mind's eye close
and her heart awakens.
her courage tends to hide
but you can see her strength
through scars.

karol. karol.

she knows your motive
and she holds it at her fingertips.

she emerges a woman.
there's reinvention on her skin.
she is self-aware
and carries salt in her pocket.

karol. karol.

in the rays of the sun
she peers out from under her hat
with a smile you'll miss
if you're not careful.


she was young and
her hair was long.
quiet and calm
with bright eyes
and an open mind.
her spirit grows
each time she cuts
her endless curls.
nicole. nicole.
patient like an arrow
meeting its mark.
turning into a mother--
her feet beat a drum
her heart glows like the sun.
her spirit grows
with each warm touch
she shares.
nicole. nicole.
a giver of grace
a shoulder free from hair
gives space for a sister's tear.
even under grey skies
she sees only blue.
her spirit grows
each time she shares
her heart.
nicole. nicole.
a wild child, undercover
opening up
to realms of light.


she is a creator
an earth shaker
a momma maker.

she wears an invisible crown
of yellowing ferns
that grow
and intertwine
each time she spreads
through the world.

emma. emma.

she surrounds herself in the silence
of skulls
and ceramic faces
frozen with a watchful eye.

lucky, is walking away with her mark
on your skin--
with her vision on your

emma. emma.

a painting cracks
colors fade
but she's permanent.

emma. emma.

she holds beauty at her fingers
but ever so gently
with her palms
to the sky.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

I had a dream

that a tiny bird
flew into
my room.

each time it hit
a wall
or floor
it grew and grew
until it could carry me away.

he was tired
but wouldn't let me help.

i took his picture
from every stance and angle.
finally, he fixed
his beak toward me,
the lens.

and there was a tickle
at my palm.

stirred away 
by the kissable 
fingers or my infant son
whose tiny chest
rose and fell 
as if he 
had been flying.
though his own dreams.
or maybe


I used to have to be grounded
to read.
I loved to read
I used to read my words
And anxiety over others readingmy words engulfed my dreams.
Once there was time
to read
words. Words.
And all mixed up.
Or misspelled could pay
or enticed.
words words words words.
And now I have to scrape
them off my shoes
or find them in the bathroom
or between the sheets
or in the car
at a red light.
Sometimes after a photo of my kids.
just because I am no longer
by words I love
or could find only
a single breath
does not mean they are not out
of mind.
I surround
myself with letters
until the words find
their way back to me.
and then
I will read.
Then maybe

Friday, July 14, 2017

He's a Rabbit

who traded his blood for ink.
Cut from paper with endless
typewriter ribbon,
dressing his wounds.

Finds comfort in the dust
that coats his words--
in the tangle of lost
poems between
ticking clocks and
sun showers through leaves.

He loves the woods
so hard others don’t have
the strength to hear.

He’s almost a shadow
who hums the taste
of what he wants.

He wonders about his bones.

But it’s a slow steady
shrinking into thinking…

What about the rain?

He could disintegrate.
He’s gone unless
he can create.

She conjures up a second heart
to house his sweet pain.
No windows to the world,
only time.

Thankful he’s not ripping.

He needs her.
She drags him from the brink of madness--
the forest’s edge.
Far away from his habit-forming insecurities.

Can he stop looking back
at what might have been?

She holds him close
and frees him from his fear to breathe.
A small tear where fur should grow.

She carries him close, pulls the arrows
from his back.

If only he stopped being frightened of a day--
wasted away,
of being alive.

The sun sets.

And nearing the end,
Tick tock,
or is it click clack?
Keys printing ink on paper.

Life is a circle--
running from the past
from the future.

He’s browning.
He’s wrinkling.

Maybe there’s a moon,
maybe it’s the fullness of his muse.
He hears the howling in the dark,
runs to catch her.

Pressed now, untouched in a book.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

My Wedding Vows (Valentine's Day Special)

So in my absence a lot has happened. I got married to the love of my life and we're moving to Colorado in a few weeks! With tomorrow being Valentine's Day (and my Valentine's birthday) I thought I would share with you the only piece I've written in a long time, except for my small series of TypeWriter Poems that I may post online someday.

Please enjoy.

I put a lot of pressure on myself, at first, to create zealous poetry out of our affection.  But what I became aware of after writing my vows about 50 times in my head is that is our love is simple—not in the unsophisticated or ordinary meaning, but in the sense that our love is so true that it’s now uncomplicated.  The first two years were anything but simple and I’m thankful for those tough points in our history because it was getting through them, along with all the awesome moments in the last five years, that shows me we’re meant to be together.   We’ve been into and out of so many ups and downs already: from that building that, literally, fell on us to the 2010 World Cup; from happy Jackson surprises to frustrating circumstances, from skating through the streets of Brooklyn to quiet nights drinking wine at home. Which is why I know that life can hit us with all it’s got and we’ll keep on supporting each other’s dreams, we’ll never stop trying to make each other laugh, and we’ll always find new ways to comfort one another. Saying you are my best friend is an understatement; you are more than my partner, lover, collaborator, and teammate, you’re more than my soul mate.  The only word I can think of to signify what you are to me is perfect. You are so wise yet wonderfully silly, you’re so genuine even if it gets you in trouble, and you’re beyond amazing as a father and provider. You are my match, my other half. You are my Yahtzee. I won’t start on how happy I am about spending the rest of my life with you because then we’d be here into the night, but I will say that I’m grateful for our simple love because it’s in the way we breathe, the way we eat, and sleep, our love is simple because we let it wrap around our little family and we know that no matter how complicated life can get our love for each other will always get us through.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

My absence, explained.


I'm aware that it's been over a year since my last post and I'm going to change that.
I do want to let you know about the projects I'm currently working on:
1. Raising a wonderful son, Jackson.
2. Keeping my house clean.
3. Keeping myself clean.
         all jokes aside

4. A series of type writer poetry.
5. Still hoping to edit my hybrid novel.
6. Teaching a prose poetry course at the local community school.
7. Helping a young man get his GED and improve his writing.
8. Finding a part time job to fit my life as a S.A.H.M and a creative individual (who also wouldn't mind extra cash).
9. Getting enough sleep.
10. Having a great relationship with my fiance.