Memory Film of Point Roberts Summer of ‘98 and the russet hatchback swings into a narrow, flower lined driveway. Poppies, lavender, chrysanthemums intertwine to create a marbled smudge, a watercolor painting. Further on the indigo, wind-blown log cabin perched upon a bluff blends in to the sky beyond, a two-dimensional backdrop, dangerous, a sharp… Continue reading Poem: Memory Film of Point Roberts
At 3 a.m. At 3 a.m., I am not alone in my room. Shadows from cars, or something more sinister, glide across my bedroom wall. Somewhere from deep within the house, a clock ticks, a slow, ominous, persistent sound, that warns me of time rolling on. At 3 a.m., something screeches, a jarring sound… Continue reading Poem: At 3 a.m.
Erased Sitting in your favorite seat next to the window at my favorite coffee shop, looking out at the strangers passing by in the blistering August heat, I realize that I no longer remember the exact color of your eyes or what your voice sounded like. I realize that this does not upset me,… Continue reading Poem: Erased
September Writing Prompts Write something.. Using the words snake, room, and wake. Where the main character is a forty-two year old man From the point of view of a polar bear. Using the words fight, bury, and awkward. From the point of view of your seven year old self. That takes place in a 50s… Continue reading Writing Prompts #3
Words, and Nothing More I tell you that I love you only because the words feel so foreign to me, bitter tasting and sharp edged, a heavy burden I do not want. I tell you that I love you only to disconnect the words from my body.
Past Life I roll your name around on my tongue like one of the raspberry candies my grandmother used to give me. Sticky sweet, bursts of flavor sliding down my throat, your name reminds me of another time, a past life.
False Memories I am always surprised by the childhood memories that creep into the corners of my mind. They are hazy memories, cloudy memories, memories of a pair of shoes I owned or that, once, I loved reading mysteries. I shift them, roll them around, but they don’t fit quite right, as though… Continue reading Poem: False Memories