Wednesday, April 5, 2017



I have a 4 leaf clover
in my pocket from 1994
preserved in packing tape
the clear kind.
She joins me on dates and
strokes my dreams as I rest.
I stroke her in waiting rooms and
parent-teacher conferences and
every time I speed.
She comforts me on bad
bipolar days and drinks with me on my birthday
twice a year.
I wonder if she is the company I miss
when I am singing alone
in the shower.


Thursday, September 10, 2015

A freewrite

I cannot seem to find an appropriate time to write.
Whether work is stealing time or the TV
is just a little too entertainingly monotonous - the moments
aren't there.
The kids squealing like pigs at the cats strumming the sofa -
mesmerization is vacant.
My face grows weary of it all and when I cannot bear the longing
I grab my pen and scribble:

Hunters shooting / stabbing
Rulers measuring Geometry Assmt 2.4 question twelve.

Assess me.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Flash Fiction Challenge 2015 - Challenge 1

okay, so here we are - thanks to's Flash Fiction Challenge, I am attempting something new.

So here goes!

My group for Challenge Number 1 - Group 29
Genre:  Ghost Story
Location:  Honeymoon Suite
Object:  A pizza

So here is my first submission to this contest.

Honeymoon Suite
310 words

Alex’s father owned the Orion Bed and Breakfast in a small village outside of St. Louis, and on weekends Alex worked there. He occasionally sat up in the honeymoon suite when it wasn’t busy, but he had heard the stories. A young married couple lived in the home fifty years ago. When police arrived they found a home-made pizza in the oven and classical music on the radio. The wife was in the bathtub, arms slit from wrist to elbow; the husband, hanged in the kitchen.
Police searched the grounds from hilltop to river and uncovered absolutely nothing. Rumors flew across town about a suicide pact, murder-suicide and even gang violence, but there was no evidence of any kind. The case ran cold and the property was placed for auction.
“Housekeeping.” Alex announced himself according to protocol, even though the suite was scheduled to be empty. He took his usual chair in the corner. He reached for the remote control and found a small, half-broken locket. As he picked it up to investigate, he heard a whisper, “help?”
“Hello?” Alex looked around the room and saw nothing. He shrugged it off and grabbed the remote from the side table. Alex flipped channels for half an hour until the screen went blank. “What the…” he smacked the remote against the floor and broke it. “Dammit.” As Alex maneuvered around the dresser, he found a small piece of paper painted into the wall. As the paint released with one more tug, Alex fell backwards onto the bed.
Alex was stunned, almost as if he had been pushed. “Help?” The whisper was louder now, and Alex crawled carefully across to the wall behind the dresser. The paper was delicate and almost fell apart in his hands. “Dear Alexander, Please forgive me.”

Alex looked in the mirror and saw a rope around his neck.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

I Could Say That...

I Could Say That
I could say that a woman produced by city parents met her future husband painting a latrine at a camp in the middle of New Hampshire. They met in June and were married that December in her parent's living room and six years later her doctor swore she would have twin boys that April, until her first daughter was born, weighing in at 8 pounds 14 ounces.
I could say that the daughter was raised to love, not hate. She was raised to treat everyone the same, and to make sure that you treated them better than they treated you - not out of spite, but because nobody deserves to be treated poorly.
I could say the daughter was so shy as a young child, her teacher was afraid she couldn't read. That her first attempt at creative writing stemmed from being told "The Truth About Santa Claus" and made her seriously consider running away.
I could say the daughter is now 39 and still questioning her place in life. She has had several acquaintances, but not many close friends, and without Facebook and the internet, she wouldn't have been able to connect with her best friend from her freshman year of college.
I could say that she is strong on the outside because she fears so terribly on the inside, that nobody will be able to handle her emotions better than she can. That sometimes she wishes someone else will make a decision for her because even what pair of socks to wear is too complicated to decide.
I could say she is strong because she has to be. She needs to feel that she is being heard, which is why she yells - because she needs to drown out the nay-saying voices in her head.
I could say she has Bi-Polar and Depression and revisited some very dark places in writing the collection presented.
I could say that...

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Day 28

Today's Prompt from

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.


of a nose
or in the mouth
a circuit board
the cue rest at Saturday's pool night
the card game - Clubs Trump
the musical passage
the rail gantry.

We yearn to build
hope to not burn
cross when we must grow
and toss pebbles as wishes into the water below.

Monday, April 27, 2015

Day 27

The Hay(na)ku is the prompt for today by

write about
politics or religion.

two words
three words spoken

their best
to find meaning

a number
or sound bite.

I will
ask for favors:

and time
from my devotees.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Day 21

The prompt for today was creating an erasure.
The original selection is from Tony Dunbar - Shelter from the Storm.
It is available for free on Kindle, I have not read it yet - but considering the words offered became this piece - I must say, I have to read it.

Thank you, Mr. Dunbar, for the page - and thank you, for the prompt!