the first row is the hardest set up the pattern count from the edge to see if the numbers work sitting in my head a piece waits for translation from air into wool needle exchange sometimes the twist works sometimes it does not row after row silent meditation conversation between fingers the eyes wander…

I just wanted to try and it felt like breathing for the first time after plunging into the sea getting lost in the waves the undertow turning me over lungs bursting until finally I find my feet again in the ever-moving sand. I just wanted to try before the sun set before the snow fell…

  you carry it so carefully an empty bowl across the room as though to try not to spill what is inside keep imaginary soup from spilling over the gold trimmed rim until you can sit at the table dip your spoon and drink the air when the last is drained sit back against the…

  II secret machines chew glass in corners you spit daggers with your eyes in the sunshine what happened in the shadows that tears dig trenches in your skin? where do I begin? secret machines dig through the boxes covered in dust begging you to look while they polish the mirror with a sleeve held…

I have tried, I am sure of it, to join in the madness of writing a poem a day for thirty days before. I have done the November counterpart for novel writing for 9 years. The poetry month challenge popped up on one of my newsfeeds somewhere, and now I am caught in the thin,…

I secret machines fill the space cracks leave torn concrete broken ground forgotten gears turn energy flows words tumble down cannot breathe through the night heavy with fear and loathing cannot see through the darkness empty rooms and hallways cannot be more than who I am to please you secret machines listen to the turning…

the promise fell into my arms unbidden unspoiled like raindrops in early spring touching skin with cold, fresh lips I was safe here within these walls afraid to move beyond the lines curves dug deep in the wooden floors I could not say where my feet bare and bleeding walked for years skin cut and…

The winter limps along and my head is already in spring. It is only the beginning of February I know, but Spring feels closer. I like that. January was a blur. So much volatile energy and events going on in the world, I did not make much time to post or write. I made no…

nose pressed to the glass they watch and wait to see what is growing beneath my mushroom soup skin seconds minutes hours measure the space between a speaker I cannot see comes alive with sound ‘breathe’ ‘do not move’ ‘you are doing great’ she tells me copper pennies sit on my tongue pleased to settle…

  I started putting together a project seven years ago called 365 Ordinary Days.. it was the lead up to a book project that I did for my kids in 2012 called Any Ordinary Day. The main goal of both projects was to find a way to illustrate the beauty that I see around me…

One Revolution On the turn table, Once around. Needle to the groove To free the music trapped In black vinyl What if instead I slipped under the arm Let the needle play In the folds and curved mountains What would you hear? Would you hear what I do? A thousand tiny disasters Shut my mouth…