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Home is our True Being
Home is not just where you live and return each evening. Home is that place we hold close in our hearts and in the dreams we wake from and try with endless energy to return to. Home is not where the hat is hung, but where our subconscious retreats during times of angst and when…
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Poem – How Many
Each day rolls into the next nothing has changed except the distance between the smile and the struggle within the person becoming more of a shell… How many more days can I keep this going? Inside I am me, but fear it has to be repressed, kept quiet and hidden, exposed through what others want…
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Poem – Coffee and Cigarettes
From a series of poems and prose about Joline Cigarette smoke settles between us a soft crackle with each hit between each sip of coffee. An ash falls from yours while we discuss literature, Chaucer, and final exams. Looking back, we were just kids racing toward adults from one credit to the next. Concerned with…
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Poem – Coffee and Cigarettes
From a series of poems and prose about Joline Cigarette smoke settles between us a soft crackle with each hit between each sip of coffee. An ash falls from yours while we discuss literature, Chaucer, and final exams. Looking back, we were just kids racing toward adults from one credit to the next. Concerned with…
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Art, passion, need
As I shrug off the last remnants of the latest migraine, I wonder about why some people are motivated or pushed into the arts. Some are labeled artists by society, some are by their occupation, and others are artists by their passion and drive. As I look back on my life, from a semi-clouded state,…