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 heart had died, strangled, beaten, desire eaten by disease; black and blue, but crimson seeped out. Like fallen tinder … Continue reading Hope Is
Leaves green in summer come flutter in fall. Oak, Cherry once rich surviving stand tall. Drab split-hardened skin scared naked … Continue reading Tree Wise of Winter
