Writing about zombies on Easter Sunday may be sacrilegious, but soul-less, reeking, walking dead things aren’t the point. Soul-hurting, desperate, walking living things are. Continue reading “What Zombies Wish They Could Tell You: An Easter Poem”
(A poem written from a condo balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico) Nutty coffee. Blue water gulf. Salty cool breeze. … Continue reading Prose by the Gulf
Like stars on a tree your mind sparkles with dots of brilliance Though darkness and void far outweigh the specks … Continue reading Starry-eyed Dreamers
My life is fleeting before me, but I pause this morning to capture the beauty and grace before my very … Continue reading Missing the Pointe
Five Spoons to rule them all, Five Spoons to find them, Five Spoons to bring them all and in the … Continue reading Five Spoons to Rule Them All
Roads branch into lanes bearing fruit of tiny farms, a patchwork quilt. Ten thousand feet. Angels blow smoke over the … Continue reading Flying Over Christmas Morning
My heart had died, strangled, beaten, desire eaten by disease; black and blue, but crimson seeped out. Like fallen tinder … Continue reading Hope Is
