Posted in Photography, Poetry

I come

I come to write
along side your lines
perforated paper
torn along my spine
with a dull blade
and an empty inkwell.

The snow has melted now.
Yet I sit cozy
near the blazing fire
with a blanket wrapped around
the middle of my story
and dancing flames worth noticing.

I will leave you the ash.
To sweep
or print
or blow away
towards the blooming azalea
covered with bees.

Posted in Musings, Poetry

Gift Crow: Volume 1

Thank you to everyone who contributed to my first attempt at publishing. Creating the handmade book was a long journey from germination to tangible product.

I am now taking submissions for Volume 2, Edition 1, that will release in September. I have a new email Send 1-3 poems and a short bio. Look forward to reading new and old voices.

And I have been really busy. Not sure if anyone has noticed Ive been MIA. But I have missed you. Time to catch up soon.

Wild Heart Arts Farm & Studio stamp

I am shooting for a Mother’s Day weekend grand opening of my Little Free Library. My future son-in-law is a trained carpenter with North Bennett Street School. He did a fantastic job (albeit not quite complete) on the library structure. It resembles my studio Shed 33! And you can peek in the windows.

Studio Shed 33 Little Free Library

One last thing before I move on. I am trying out Instagram. Again. Under a new name… come follow me. I’d love to reconnect!

Posted in Memoir, Photography, Poetry

Time in Review: B&W (and a few words)

The minute 
the very exact minute
i opened my mouth
out flew every disease i ever caught.
And so i buried myself
under the pine
with worn words as a companion.
A silent celebration
i invited no one.

I am about a month away from my Little Free Library grand opening. Which means I am busy constructing my first collaborative chapbook and I am eager to let everyone see it soon! Thank you to those who have contributed.

Posted in Art, Poetry

Midnight Blue

Midnight Blue

The heaviness of hibernation has me wiggling out of my skin.

I want to experience again
the day i first met you
on display
the layers of tongue
wagging through philosophy
lifting life.

Us finding midnight blue.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Feeling good about myself and others.

Home Bound

I haven’t posted many of my thoughts lately. Mostly out of a cringe in my stomach telling me to hold back the tide of bile. An anger lurks underneath the bed.

And you are healing? Aren’t you feeling your way out of the dark yet?

Ive been here so long. You fit like a glove. The peeling back of every layer. Every fear succumbs to my scratching fever. The bedside table rarely tips. The icy water barely sipped.