“Imagine that you are a bird that can see through space and time, looking down at your entire life. What do you see?”

moments of laughter and moments of tears,

a freckled face drenched in salt-water from perceived slights,

from a distorted image,

from a free price tag I’d handwritten and stuck to my heart.

fear and anxiety looming like clouds

over the steps I’ve taken time and time again….


I see red rocks, green grass, ocean lapping at my feet,

the streets of barcelona and madrid,

dreams of Irish countryside,

beers with a young irish woman in the heart of boston,

backpacks overflowing with supplies,

blistered feet,

worn-down hiking boots,

the rainbow colors of a gym rock wall,


lots and lots of chalk…

all mixed together with the finesse of a baker

moonlighting as a sculptor

before waking early to do what has become muscle-memory.

A life blended with perhaps too much water,

but the colors still bleed

backwards and forwards

providing light in the darkest moments

and vibrancy in the light.


“Wonder Woman”

its the ordinary things
that make her extraordinary

the way her hair settles unevenly –
tousling in all directions
after letting her thoughts run wild
against the canvas
of midnight

the way make-up quickly smudges
with every smile and laugh
gently falling away
to open the world
to that natural and under-appreciated

the way her smile
takes over her entire face,
distorting any attempt she may make
at appearing
‘symmetrical’ –
reminding you that
truly beautiful things
are always off-kilter

the way her attempts at
dressing formal
are always at war
with her comfortable and causal
ways of being –
a single dress never stopped her
from feeling free

the way she writes and talks
about those she loves
with such vigorous admiration

while constantly forgetting

she’s worthy

of the


I want to be my own Wonder Woman

his 4-year old world

“I’m the draw-bridger”

the proclamation settles in
to a leather couch cushion
quickly recruited to play the part

tender tiny hands
hoist the bridge on its side
until it leans delicately
against particularly placed
kitchen stools
(assigned the job “castle walls”)



the living room transforms
under the touch of grimy fingertips
compelled by
the vivid workings
of a mind I can
no longer

A wedding at the tides

the ocean’s rough spray
is gloomy and grey
on a wedding day
at the tides

charming groomsmen smile
as if they’re on trial,
waiting to defile
their young brides

before the affair
begins, on the air
floats the stench of their


I think of it as a
natural right,
so what is revealed
by the fact
we are fighting
to obtain it?


the serpent’s deceit

the world coils tightly
burrowing beneath the skin on my back
a snake


delicate curvature

hunches collapse

with every blink
every sound
every distracting chirp of technology

the serpent grows aggressive
tearing at my ligaments
urging a union (a cyborg relationship)

begging me to forget

“I’m human”


it knows
if I remember


I could destroy it all.

the tragedy of mufasa

claws tangled deep
in the thinning flesh of his face
as he clung desperately
to the crumbling edges of his life

his eyes locked with those
he thought he knew –
emerald eyes laced with a hatred
he’d never seen
never noticed
never grasped

his lips slowly formed
words of love
syllable by syllable
scrambling to save. . .



with a scarred wink
everything fell away.

Advice from a 4-year-old

“We’ll just take it easy”
I say to the limping young man at my side

“. . .like a rock” he replies


“what makes being a rock easy?”

“. . .because they’re still. . .”


like baby giraffes –
they take the stage

limbs stumbling across the flat surface

hats falling over their tender ears

bright face paint adorning their cheeks
slowly melting under their incessant fingers

as their eyes rarely leave
the comfort in the direction
behind my nod.

30 Day Poetry Challenge – Day 30

We made it!

This is officially the first time I have decided to join the 30 day poetry challenge for National Poetry Month and it has been a success! Thank you to those of you who have followed along and sent some love my way. Here’s the final installment and hopefully this month of creativity leads to many more!


30 of 30

a snowy trail
turns to rock
beneath the arches of our feet

exploring with each
thought-out step
delicate creations

shards of ice shatter
newly-bent branches
as Spring begins to whisper
in every creature’s ear

with each forgotten footfall
Winter melts into the earth
making way for
Spring’s dear sirens
to dance barefoot
in the dirt.

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