do i not notice new flowers sprouting be they sweet pea or oleander new quicksand pits waiting to swallow me new ways to fall and rise?...

lightning cannot be begged to strike; love needs no convincing.

i’m done with practicing love, joy and fulfillment. they say adversity’s the best teacher, but i’ve learned enough these few years for a...

when will i learn to stop paving over my emotions?

struck by craving for homemade pesto i stripped you of every leaf in a murderous rampage certain this would be the end of you for weeks...

slowly, this illness is releasing its grip on me. i sleep past eight most mornings, reliably scarf down three meals a day. sugar is once...

think not of what you have lost but all you have gained. my return to three solid meals a day. the ability to sit through my afternoon...

how about you take a break from chasing your dreams for a new york minute and admire the gentle giant ambling home from the dog park...

the air stole the water i left over the course of days until nothing was left but a ring of russet residue of unfinished business

and in the end, does water not pour forth from the heavens precisely when we are most parched?