This was created for the Late Night Poets Ekphrastic Radio show to be aired on Saturday, May 28th. So, I … More
Last night, I climbedover your bodysearching for my Everestbut unwilling to reach its summit.And as my crampons grippedyour rocky surface,feeling … More
A petite pen to tide over a tough Tuesday. 30 words or less to the artwork below. If you feel … More
First eye to morning sun.She loves me; I eat those.She loves me not; drop those to rot.
Happy Easter! I’m traveling today, so I thought I’d re-post some Easter-themed pieces from the past, you know, just in … More
Calmness resides inan arched backnestled in sprouting grass,a full frontal relax. She is the egg,patient and full of care,waiting for … More
I will not write love poetry this springeven when the season makes the city giddy,every block a white bosom bared,the … More
Give me true love’s kiss.Climb inside my conch shellto live in melded bliss.
Tell me about your first. But she was a pathetic palette, love,a watercolor woman withdrip-dry hydrangea bush eyes,over-saturated skin,sea sponge … More
I hope you all don’t mind if I reblog today this little piece written in the park about this time … More
This poem was written for Late Night Poet’s Art of Seduction Radio Show which aired on January 12th. Poets were … More
My love’s a lion’s maneundersea massive beingtangled tentacles outreachingburning soul mate stingingthe perfect knotsuch a sweet spotno real eyes needing.
This flash fiction is inspired by Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #14. This piece has adult themes sprinkled in, so read at … More
You raked the surface of your lips with teeth,a wintertime lawn of leaves.At sunrise, a dewy surfaceof indifference.A benign offeringof … More
Just as the moon is forever drifting away, so were my dark thoughts while writing this lunar, late-night poem inspired … More
I take out a garment bag, unzip the front to find a burgundy evening gown. Bingo. Let that fabric breathe. … More
The hurt is not enough.It goes onthe way the duskacquainted with the nightis bullied into silence,black and blue,blows followed byI-love-you’s,and … More
Arms no longer bare,I wear cashmere to touch youand the fresh, fallen leaves.
It started when we touched, a twitching, aching burn. The freezing warmth of our final embrace. I traced your image … More