It was a dirty buzz the bop of the street sign jack knife engine rapping on a dashboard heady windows and no exit summertime south Fresh from a coffee shop on Tryon a writer’s clackety-clatch the metaphor of metaphors It was sunset Sunday and we were looking through the legs of the world Poetry, macaroons, [...]
notes while reading Carl R. Rogers’s book by the same name becoming a person is like learning how to properly cook an egg because how you handle the mighty egg says a great deal about your personality including your ability to handle the frailest of things, especially yourself (among other very important matters of finesse) [...]
This post is formatted to reflect an original journal entry. 9/15/18 The day's been dark and peaceful. An hour and a half of yoga. Soft jazz. Writing longhand in my notebook while rain pelts the windows and long gusts of wind rumble through the trees. It's almost time for chamomile tea and a cat in [...]
Originally published on Morality Park There will have been a night that sat on a house with no fence where the stars came in A night made of lightning, like a flash that tore from between two legs, switched off the lights, and crowded the walls with neighbors like a speakeasy, a room with a [...]
I've been going through an intensely creative phase lately. All poetry. Averaging nearly a poem a day. Reading Kerouac. Contemplating Maslow. Both now having stirred my interests in Buddhism. They make me want to retreat to the mountains and meditate. I remind myself that I've got a hiking trip coming up next month. My own [...]
Let’s make love suddenly with all the lights on and everyone home Cross-legged, sprigged thick like a leaf skirting the horned edges of that cracked flower pot in the garden where everyone else is brunching on Prosecco with tongues ready for deep gossip while they work the runny eggs off their chins slo mo sizzle [...]
some mornings i wake up like a butterfly and wait for miraculous things to happen, i ask god to give me the wings i need to break into the day, to breathe in the world sharply, to feel hope in my lungs and genius in my bones, and magic in the toppy-tips of my fingers, [...]
