Just because something has been done before, doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing again. I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for a good fairy tale retelling, and Beauty and the Beast is one of my favorites. The story form is rich emotional soil for drama and intrigue, be it Cruel Beauty, A Court of ThornsContinue reading “Retelling Beauty and the Beast”
Elise existed in the most delectable state of shame, and had only grown more succulent by the day. She would taste so pretty, writhing in pain within my grasp. And now she was out of my reach, at a hospital somewhere, from what I could gather from the man’s murky thoughts as he shuffled through her closet.
She wasn’t the type to coddle living things. Most people like to have something living nearby — a plant, a fish, a cat, another human. I’d never seen another living being in her space. It was just her and me.
the honeyed river of summerflows through my open windowas I drive home through Nisquallydust in my eyes and shadows on my tongue I’ve been watching all the omens:a pregnant fish split opena flock of gulls headed to the mountainsI hear that raven finally stole the sunnow that everything else has already been stolen lives, andContinue reading “the honeyed river of summer”
This collection of poetry came about as I was walking Camino de Santiago. Many of the poems were written during my journey across Spain. Others were written before or after — on hikes, at monasteries, in dreams.
Happy Beltane! Happy May Day! This is my second favorite holiday, falling directly opposite of my favorite holiday, Halloween. The veil is thin, the sun is shining, and everything is growing. What a wonderful time to announce some changes. Last night, for Walpurgisnacht, I tried my hand at broomstick making, then jumped on our backyardContinue reading “May Day Message”
Just a little listicle about my life right now.
Like most people, I hate my own voice. Unfortunately, reading aloud is a rather important part of poetry. So, for National Poetry Month, I’m reading a poem a day on YouTube. So far, all the poems I’ve read are my own. No promises that will remain a hard rule — I have a hankering toContinue reading “reconciling with the sound of my own voice”
Some people beg for demons. They fall easily, writhing with regret. Even in those who summon demons, attempting to bind us with foul symbols of the false god, there is a frisson of fear. Unbelievers are as easily haunted as the devout. Shame is the only requirement. We always have options, if we’re willing to take them.