The Daring Muse.

In moments daring, her heart shown through her breast, a rapid rhythm that if she confessed, held more inside its chambers than he knew, in every moment, every breath she drew, some shred of hope that if he saw her… Read More ›


To speak of The Muse is to speak of The Ethereal, The Inspired. The walls shook with the sound of cascading thunder, the windows vibrating in their frames. In a burst of light, the panes became liquid beneath my finger… Read More ›


I fear your disapproval, Wrecked by the names you have called me, Without saying a word. Lost to myself and others. Having become my own fiction. Righting myself only to fall again. My sense of humor taken leave. My wounds… Read More ›

Lionel Ritchie

Is it that I sometimes limp? My bump top foot? Dry skin? My belly? Less than ample Amplitudes? My knees? The way I sneeze? Is it, perchance, my posture? A little lacking now, Under all of this? Is my frustration,… Read More ›