Poetry Project

Poetry Project

Thursday, October 2, 2014


I have no words

the anxiety spilling
over into my dreams

I will come back 
to begin

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


Tucked deep
inside a belief

A shell 
layered with thick
pearl and pain

Bound and gagged
by all the yarns

without boundaries

I wait


I will 

Monday, September 29, 2014

October's Poetry Project

I am taking on a project this October.  A poem a day for 31 days.  I still have my April poetry project to revise but find the muze is more generous when I am regularly providing the attention that is craved.  

This undertaking will require me to set aside my own inner critic and let the MuZe have her way with me.  
This means it can get a bit messy.  Awkward.  And beautiful.

 All works are drafts - feedback is appreciated as is kindness.  Thank you for sharing this journey with me...

As my fellow traveler Tressa Breen proclaimed - Onward through the ink and fire!

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

30 - Light Train

Timetables and ticker tape
iphone itineraries
and a standing date

all predicted, promised
the arrival
of the inevitable train

the steel snake rattling
along slick tracks
a child’s penny fancy
could derail the whole thing
all for a flattened copper

Fare hikes
labor strikes
and the misguided
wave of a drunken conductor
its a wonder if the train would ever get here
let alone
on schedule 

Yet at the eleventh hour
on the 30th day
I could see it
as I stood on 
the cloud platform
with my many years 
of baggage
eager for the arrival
bracing for impact

I close my eyes
when the horns howl closer
The warm gush of air
blows me back
against my fears
I steady myself, brace myself
It is time
Right here, right Now
is the moment
I have been waiting for

My eyes flutter open
and look back
at my luminescence.
and I know

I have arrived. 

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Sous Vide

A sultry night in the city
fills the sidewalks with outside seating
girls in sleeveless tops and maxi dresses
march down the street
a flock of pink pigeons
set free to feed
off our plates

The turn of the century 
walk ups
with their Edwardian charm
and constant disrepair
the only thing that is controlled
in our inflated existence
of 60 hour work weeks
happy hours, weekend binges,
recovery brunches 
is the rent
so we, like the rusted chandelier in the foyer,
have become fixtures here

Leaving windows wide open 
to let the heat escape into the night
with the click clack of heels
the crackle of the electric wires
as busses run by

I guarantee the city
will not sleep tonight
We will lay in a pool of our own shared sweat
sealed in motionless
staring at the ceiling fan shadows
for a breath of fresh air