A poem Subtitles become our thriving in the realm of the idiosyncratic, as vestibules of light, we are beings made for reflection, moth to flame, consistency is a vibration of utter rigor, maple trees discovered in baths, cloak and consideration is given to the earthen world, one we can touch and hear through fine…

Snow particulates surround the crispy aftermath of a blanket storm, pines bear the weight of thunderous white clouds, whilst, precipitation undermines winter’s grasp, a choke hold on vines in a spectacular village in Tuscany, grasping the gregarious quality of oneself, it is the understatement of conditioning that interests the body. …

Hinged Creative Press Prompt #311 “Pale” — Life, they say, has a way of fixing storms after winter ‘s end, inches line up until foundations crumble before the great divide, tectonic, pasty the collective of sandstone faces before farmer’s fields, objectifying wheat stalks as random expressions of the phallic. Time beckoning the ascension of regress, man is…

On wisdom in life —

Friday Wisdom — Considerate hearts must be made for enjoyment, yes? attainment of happiness, conclusions at the bottom of a pitiless sea, in romance I stand the nobody, the accusatory nature, content or not, wisdom precedes the rash personality; one must wait it out. Hungry, bastardized and alone, in bitter truth I seek, the façade…

A poem for Storyteller’s prompt ‘Create’ — A Sunday, serene and avid perhaps the moon will glow tonight, Van Gogh appears in starry skies and creates atmosphere, spinning in circles, minds tend to wander in curiosity, men and women, satiated with desire and curiosity, often seeking.. Les troi quest mon l’ affliction, matter, substance and air, acquiring desired…

On the current state of ‘us’ and language — The way we communicate with others and with ourselves ultimately determines the quality of our lives” — Anthony Robbins “Words of comfort, skillfully administered, are the oldest therapy known to man.” — Louis Nizer Sometimes, it is what it is. You cannot communicate for the love of God, words have…

A poem — Enslaved by captivated emotions, passion entails, concerted efforts at continuing what was never there at all, a sunset reflects my mind’s proclivities, water ripples as fall leaves do, quick to ripen, persimmons turn a deep orange hue, sweet to the tongue, like your kiss, used to be. Sheltering broken wings…