“As an artist do I need constant flux to create? How will I find words in the woods surrounded by trees and rotten cornfields?…
One CommentTag: Nature’s Dance
This is my story. Boots and a bag, sherbet sunrise, an extended furlough at the beach, the Cove, side-trip to the bayou and the self-confinement of four walls inside…
Leave a CommentI have to remind myself to walk away from the hate multiple times a day when frustration gets too heavy, life bears down too hard. Living…
Leave a Comment“It all comes back to a red metal bench in the woods, on a small hill by a nothing special pond. The air is sweet and wet and fall is here for now. Ducks sleep near the brisk, damp water waiting to take flight to sunnier places, offering no solution. I shiver and squirm in my own discomfort, clenching the bench, determined to will myself better. I’ll sit there god damn it, I’m as stubborn as you, until there is something to look forward to. I’m not pretending rosy and cheery just maybe a hint of curiosity.
Leave a CommentAuthenticity. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the word, gargling, swishing it around in my mouth and spitting it out. If I only show…
3 CommentsMy love of prose runs deep, and flows freely. I never try to push or guide her, I simply wait. She comes to me in thought, letting…
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