Getting Out of the Door

For those mornings when I am anticipating my return home before I’ve stepped out the door:

One of the most sublime gifts in life is knowing that, at the end of the day, there will be a small, furry face watching for me, an excellent selection of pens, pencils, and notebooks. books, both read and unread, and wine chilling alongside a little something to nibble in the fridge.

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Why Poetry?

Poetry stretches the meaning of my words, giving them new shapes and angles. It expands the basic art of conversation, allowing the speaker to present themselves in a multitude of ways. It makes no demands, allowing me to curl my thoughts around corners and bends, placing my truths anywhere on the page that I please. Poetry puts on disguises, playing hide-and-seek, all the while dancing to a tune that only some are able to hear. Why poetry, he asks me. To heal and move on, my friend.

Taking breaths without contemplation. Finding roads and exploring. Sometimes unexpected. sometimes familiar. This is a place to learn to breathe, explore our wild side, magic, and starting over, as many times as it takes.

I’m a writer, creator, hippie/nerd/artist, looking for do-overs, fresh chances, a style I can call my own. Writing is an uncharted mystery and poetry is medicine.