The Highway Halfway Mark

The Highway Halfway Mark  I wonder, I do. I cannot help but wonder what’s down the road from the place I have ever truly called home. The wood and grass and nails and bolts, the wet familiar dew smells and giggling baby sounds. The joy and the sorrow. I can’t help but observe and wonder. The funny, peculiar, crooked way of seeing the world that is all my own. The structure has cracks, fissures, and deep

White Wings and Things #StolenMoments #Poetry

From time to time you’ll see Stolen Moments show up on the blog. Words forgotten and misplaced, poetry, anticipatory memories, prose, joy and sorrow, pensive emotion, random and not so random thoughts scribbled in tattered notebooks. To not forget but remember the precious, fleeting stolen moments in time. I’m a writer trying recapture on paper how it feels to be alive. White Wings and Things  Happy Birthday to Me March

Don’t quit five minutes before the miracle.

I’m tired. Wiped, discouraged, caput, worn down, exhausted. I am not winning this mammoth battle with the mind. I can no longer distinguish between mania and anxiety, thoughts race ahead anyway without definition. Oxygen depleted and unrelenting physical pain does not let up. No, no, no, no way. There’s no way I can keep up with this living thing. I am not strong enough. Am I? Just when I think I have used and abused

"Raw genius is rarely loud or pretentious." Jacqueline Cioffa #maryellenmark

In modeling you go on countless go-sees, maybe twenty a day. Most forgotten before you hit the bottom stair. I remember being nervous, awestruck walking into the brilliant photographer’s studio apartment, she had ‘requested’ to see me. Mary Ellen Mark wore no makeup, trademark braids and a gentle demeanor not to be mistaken for meekness. Raw genius is rarely loud or pretentious. I didn’t book the job, but remain an

Horseshoe Happy

i remember this place. a traditional Italian family lived here. the smell of meatballs and homemade sauce overpowered your senses inviting you in. lace doilies adorned the kitchen table. plastic pride covered the furniture. linens hung on the clothesline signaling sweet smells of Spring. the barn was once a Soda Pop warehouse, Liberty Beverage. the family is gone now, mom and dad died packing up their stories for a different

Concealer Bare

I’ve mostly been embarrassed by my looks, I never outgrew the gawky teens years. The fluke modeling career, false impressions people make about you. I downplayed it for half my life, hid in a corner for the benefit of others. There no longer is the need to pretend play that part. As I embark on a more satisfying, terrifying career, I jump. Headfirst. I thought I had to compartmentalize, distance myself