sleep eludes me still deeper darkness stirs silent screams from dying dreams I know how to swim. I don’t — I sink. Feels like I’m drowning just another night endlessly restless, twitching trapped in dreamless dark

you here everywhere sun moon stars and vast empty spaces between, so cool held stares exposure flesh in anarchy fever pulse, skin flush—no! play cool salt kiss staccato punctured dreams sinking abandoned to onyx deep, cool

I dance door to door, seeking any chance and when you knock I answer, trepidation and sweat and this pounding beat and loud and clear I say yes, dreading opportunity even as I seize it and I dare participate, hoping and wanting and willing myself to standard

scars worn fine, wooden crumble of passing decades dilapidation Dewi – I think I will start working my way, slow and sure through the alphabet

…plus zero tolerance to anyone with a medical condition — The Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc (UTMB) announced last year that they would be extending their medical and anti-doping policy to all races in the UTMB World Series 2022. Their goal is “protecting athletes from the dangers of self-medicating”, according to the medical director, Dr Patrick Basset. I have been concerned about…

A seed poem for Chalkboard’s Time to Rhyme project — Like cheap tea brewing in a fragile cup, they let you steep then wrung you out, releasing bitter words you could not keep. And as they spilled and stained, they scalded, scarred. The pain runs deep. I listen; there is nothing I can do to help. I sweep shards and fragments, wipe away all trace and watch you weep. A burden shared is doubled, never halved. I do not sleep. Each day I strain and struggle and each night I work to break what’s wrong and fix what’s right.

I am not who you think I am not who you expect me to be not who you want me to be — I am not defined by you I am not designed in your words, your deeds not created by the presence or absence of you not born in opposition to you I am not defined by you I am uncounted pieces melding to form one implying imprecision, defying definition nothing less, nothing more than I am I wrote this poem in response to the following challenge:

A Write or Die response to After the War by A Maguire — It had gotten seriously out of hand — The smooth surface of the air throbbed. Its shine and fire had died, breath held to feed the winter. It was coming as sure as their seed — The wind like a gunshot of order, like the impossible children conceived through their hunger…

A Write or Die response to Chrysanthemums by Indira Reddy — October 25, 2012 I lose hope that my calls to Brighid are heard — better that than the alternative, that she hears but ignores me. Why she of the home and the hearth still does not light my womb, despite all my offerings and prayers, I cannot imagine. …