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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The air is thick with violence. Outside my window, the thunder groans, the lightning screams. You and I have fought in similar battles. Together, we made ourselves a storm. In the turbulence of our togetherness, we got lost in the roar of intimacy and the flash of anger. There were times whe...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Being a poet is a funny thing, Sometimes words and minutes flow at the same rate and it's all my pen can do to keep up. Other times I roll myself up like a tube of toothpaste, Trying to squeeze out those last stubborn sentences. But every now and again, my mind is flattened by some falli...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Lately I've been thinking about last Halloween, You, grinning like a jack-o'-lantern at a party full of people who didn't know me, Their eyes appraising our lack of mask or makeup, When, for no reason at all, you reached over and took my hand. Our adolescent world is laden with ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am grasping at poems, searching for them in the cells of your rough hands. looking for the deep current of words in the transient colors of your eyes. I am trying to find the poetry in the consistency of your kisses....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    So long have I fought your orange perception For I have seen crimson deception In the sweet translucency Of your cold blue eyes So long have you said that I touched this orange skin Meanwhile have I held your dark grey sin Kissing your wood-brown heart And your ice blue eyes So long you...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    do you believe in coincidence? or choreography? as these days wind into weeks, I am beginning to believe that you and I are dancers. we are drawing nearer to one another and the tension is building. the audience waits on edge for the spectacular collision the intertwining of you an...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    eggshell ~ paper cannot hold you (‘re) ex planation in the same (wayyouonceheldme) with out my skin so much as my s o u l (which ) you gathered like the shattered (pieces) of a rob (in’s egg) believe me (i have tried so many times) to hol...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The girl was seated on the bench again. For two weeks she had returned, again and again, and always she sat in exactly the same place. The bench she sat upon seemed altogether ordinary, it was a simple wrought-iron with dulled black finish and a back at precisely the wrong angle for comfort. This di...
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Charcoals
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