Poetry

Signal Failed

October 15, 2015

I think god is in
the foyer, balanced
against the staircase
behind me,
his cell
in his hands;
texting prophets.
Oblivious to me,
he powers
the light that illuminates
his downcast gaze.
If I could see
his eyes
I might stay–
if I could see myself,
I might
go.

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Business vs. Busyness

April 25, 2022

Pots and pans on the stove, in the sink. Shreds of paper on the floor. Stacks of mail precarious upon the table. Paint residue on my arm and between my fingers. Doors are locked. Lights off. And my car–with baked on remains of many suicidal bugs across the windshield– speeds

Keeping My Promise

April 20, 2022

When I was 14 years old, I told my dad I wanted to be a writer. I could feel it in my bones. I knew writing was what gave my life its most profound meaning. I could taste it. “I think I want to be a writer,” my young, tender

Author & Teacher

In an effort to put a more selfless face on my writing, I hereby submit this blog of my words. I can’t promise it’s safe here in my head. Enter at your own risk. But if you do come, introduce yourself, Reader, because maybe yours will be the face I place in my mind when I focus on my reader in the future. And then I can never again say I’m not certain who you are, because you will have pulled up a chair, put your feet on the coffee table, and taken up residence here in my brain. Sorry about the mess. I hope you’ll stay awhile.