Writing

Of the Many Yous

What if every time I wrote about you another you was born? A you sketched from the lettered prose of my wants and dreams; each…

Cactus

It can be beautiful the death it holds

What are you waiting for?

I keep looking for inspiration despite the void that lays before me. My muse takes pleasure when I am faced with…

A moment

I want to take a moment and hold that moment for only a second; tell her it’s okay to breathe, and in that moment of the moment she’s in, we…

My Home.

I have many voices. Writing is one of them. I would like to say that I write solely to clear the mind, that there are sounds within me no…

What Does Your Writing Process Look Like?

I have tried to take a firm hold of my imagination, to wrestle with it until a story was told, but the moment I try to organize my thoughts a simple breeze sets them skyward. I have ideas. They are shy. Behind corners they curl themselves into small…

The Muse (Part 1)

The Muse (a meditation on a most elusive creature)

A Glimpse

There’s a spectrum of writing that’s not dictated by forethought but is inspired; a euphoric process, the words produced are raw and messy at best. These thrashings are often the…

Block

Big wall in the way. Bulky, clunky words to fill the space. Write write. Blind fingers play. Muted strip tease, all lined up to stay. My printed prose are dolls wrapped plastic. Dance dance on the stage. Naked nude wanderings in a stupor beg. Big wall in the way. Polar bear footprints on sheet of white.

Fancy speak…

In the details

Little devils you are, hiding between the space. Escape artists with your printed shadows. I will tie you down upon the point. I will build your prison and clip your wings of bleeding ink. Praying mantis she is, my muse of patience. Your day will come.