No Matter

•June 24, 2017 • 1 Comment

The will to write escapes me
Not because there is nothing
But because there is too much
And in that muchness I feel nothing
I have become a shadow whisp of me
With vortex-swirls inside
Contained by only what once was
And ghosts they cannot write of it
Their fingers only slip through keys
Or try to grip pencils in vain
The most they do is flicker lights
Perhaps with just enough mad fight
They may knock a few memories
To shatter from some shelves
Maybe rearrange a few dear pieces
Causing only slight concern
Or speak their scattered verse
In the static between stations
I can do that, I have done that
But write about the nothing much
With fingers made of unformed air
What restless spirit can do that
No matter the will to try


Painting: Judith By Laurel Hausler

Half Full

•May 6, 2017 • 3 Comments

My fingertips can feel again
They’d been numb for quite awhile
Oh such things
To do with them
This tapping time was not my style

My palms are warming plump again
The chilly fists they’d made are free
To press them on
The pulsing world
This holding empty was not me

My hands are reaching out again
With friction ridge and patterned palm
Toward sanguine space
Where instincts play
This beckoning could be my balm



Painting: The Dance By Penny Warden

Half Empty

•May 3, 2017 • Leave a Comment

I was dead
In future moments
So I gladly wept and leapt
With pessimism’s groaning
Melodies whispered in my ear
A moaning of such sweet surrender
Dissenting sighs of rest and resignation
A momentary melancholic lullaby
Without much meaning or making
My home without itself to master
Which was everything to spite
Me as nothing empty
From this moment
I was born



Painting: Optimism v/s Pessimism by Lokesh Mandot


•April 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

The dark side of the butterfly
Barely encased but still
She takes her time
She liquefies
Till she rebuilds and battles out
To rise


Image: Butterfly By Aldana on

Mirror on the Ceiling

•March 7, 2017 • 2 Comments

my bed left
the undoing
of a dream
once reflected
by the fantasy


Alex Alemany I

Artwork by Alex Alemany


•February 20, 2017 • 3 Comments

There is a scent
Of sun and summer
I’ve tried so desperately
To capture
This year it has come early
That smell of cotton
Under ultraviolet slivers
Stretched on bedsheets
And a heady breeze of greens
This new nostalgic mix
Of daylight crisp
And earthy meal
I’d like to wrest
Such better words
From wafting feel
But all I keep as I breathe deep
Is nascent possibility
At best


Painting by Lynne French, available at Lynnefrenchdesigns on Etsy


•February 10, 2017 • 7 Comments


He prefers the sheets left all messy
Ellipses in his story
She liked
Her bed made
P e r i o d
One dot sometimes three
Full stop turns to free
An invitation to keep right on dreaming



Painting by Vladimir Kush

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