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I was asleep
when the earthquake
hit. It was the
first time
my mother told me
I could sleep through

She said the cupboards… 48 more words

Poem A Day

Grace for the Ungrateful

Another thing I’ve learned this year is that in order for the poeming to happen, the bra has to come off. I think that is probably true of all creative ladies once they stepped into their rooms; alone or in the company of other women, the ta-tas must be freed. 357 more words

Only you, yourself, will truly know you.

I used to be a playful writer.

Negative, but with mind-boggling perspectives and electric sarcasm hanging over my words.
Then I had that unspeakable meltdown and things changed. 94 more words



You were standing
over my bed looking
down at my sleeping form.

Is it because I hadn’t
dreamt you in a while that
you came crawling home? 141 more words

Poem A Day


When she rises ,
she drinks hot
rosemary and prays
to her gods,
pretending she
can not hear
the voices in
the next room
discussing how she
sleeps too much.

Poem A Day

Telling Monsters

It’s a real hoppin’ Saturday night around here. HP is sad because USC lost handedly,and I just spent an hour and twenty minutes putting the girlies to bed. 269 more words


You are innocence,
simplicity’s smile
the visible breathe
as I laugh in December.

Footprints in the snow
fading away from the
confines of home,
free under the sun. 82 more words

Poem A Day