December First

Lost occurs losing time with things to do.

Saluting with sake in silence for lover’s first shift of long nights.

December. You got this.

Stack of books on desk. Patti Smith on pile top. The smallest of them all, making big impressions. Influences. With sake bottles and poems.

Ariel, were you worth eight bucks? Yes.

Impulse. Explodes unknown. Riding glorious. No questions, no control.

Feline and lace, always arm’s length away, except in dream where close we play and sleep.

Two years, no word. I’ve missed you Thought, said Pen.



A short story I wrote called Too Good To Be Bye got published in Babbling Creek’s 1st edition online zine. Read it here if ya like:

And if you lurve to write, check out there submit page because it’s nice to share ūüôā Happy days!

A Thursday Dribble

Yoga brings slow, deep breaths to a body and mind that rarely gets it, realized by the subtle snap clicks of things moving inside. It feels good, why not do it often? Mind says yes, each morning for five minutes before life happens and I’m walking, trotting late to work, remembering a vague notion of wishing to jog the route six months ago.


The other side of thirty sprouts dark hairs around nipples and reoccurring thoughts on mortality. With a lover focussed on future family and career, I remind her raised eyebrows that my heart races for love not medals. She embraces and accepts until childhood conditioning beckons question and doubt that takes a little piece of my heart and puts it in a silent place.


A friend disappears North, stripping identity to reveal a warrior within. Nights of broken sleep, water seeps into dream, hands outstretched wishing to connect to a back turned, standing on a welcome mat that says accept, waiting for the oak door to open.


Photography tutorials from youtube, Internet goes down, four books started, Bon Iver plays out now, sprawled on the sofa. Kids play basketball on street, bounce, shout, scream. Eating the cupboards closer to bare than the year has seen, eyes grow heavy, late nights, early mornings, tomatoes ripen, chard grows purple and green in the garden. Hummingbirds and butterflies dance on the summer, everything is going to be alright, we just have to believe.

Traveler Tales: The Divine Devil Dance

Travelers¬†wander searching for something inside themselves unknown. Inspired, helped and guided by places and people along the way with process of elimination, illumination, experience and reflection, thoughts, habits, actions and objects are stripped away.¬†Traveling is¬†the school we’re born to, sometimes it can take a while to remember or be reminded, still the lessons the traveler¬†uncovers are unforgettable and life altering.

He bumbles in front of me straight off a seventy two hour Greyhound ride cross country from Boston. He tells me, after a shower, it’s time he made an appearance as he joins the ballroom and the abundance it offers. He looks like a bus driver. He exudes an excitement of having arrived, it bursts from the seems that makes him. Distracted by work, my attention wanders to a musician in the background and back to him. Now something sits in his eyes, meanness? His mouth continues telling stories wiping a smile all over his face which takes the flicker of edge away. The smell of hot food dances with melody taking the man away. Continue reading

Temptress Train Thoughts

A prophet¬†is one who inspires. Prophets are said to¬†carry the will of god –¬†bible prophet.¬†

‚ÄúCome over.‚ÄĚ

Unable to resist the sweet love coo call, the grey BART doors slide open to reveal more bodies than space. Squeezing between escapism and conversation, hand reaches around cool metal rail as momentum swing sways carriages forward Berkeley bound and beyond. Deep, soulful sounds rise up, turning around to see notes float up, view obscured with faces bowed, bodies bulky with bags, mystery music continues to soothe. Transfer stop arrives, bodies trickle out, remaining passengers appear to breathe and expand. Vacant seat seduces aching feet. A different view reveals man and his song in wheelchair missing legs. His dark face round and smooth holds elasticated mouth, which moves shiny lips wet releasing song to backs turned, shaking heads. Eye contact opens door to speech. Continue reading

Wanting It Bad

This is a writing exercise a lover introduced me to. It’s froma book written by a woman who took¬†writing classes.¬†It’s to help with¬†writing strategies.(I’ll add the book and author once I find it!)

Write for fifteen minutes (timer!) about a time in your past when wanted something so much…GO! Continue reading

The Dawning of Independence

What is independence day? Independence Day is the celebratory anniversary of the United States legal separation from Great Britain in the eighteenth century. Here’s some quotes from independence day, not the Will Smith movie and a wonder thought love ploop stemming from a sleepless night. Continue reading