she lay her thoughts aside,
like a chapter at rest in an open book–
spine cracked,
pages dog-eared,
passages underlined and memorized–
shadows of a haunted epilogue
Haunted
Inconsistent
“They’ve never stopped telling me I’m inconsistent. They couldn’t have said anything more flattering.” –Edouard Manet
Recently
The Samurai’s Garden by Gail Tsukiyama
candles that smell like apples
chocolate brioche
sleeping with the windows open
Gold Dust by Tori Amos
peppermint tea
long streaks of sun
a room of mannequins
yellow crysanthemums
three butterflies
a canadian dime
artful trivets
warm pumpkin soup
the kindness of strangers
The Door
i wanted to run my hand across the grain,
lay my head on your cool metal,
and will centuries of secrets straight into my pulsing heart
Pennsylvania
our eyes travel along the edges of your rolling hills,
across soft, emerald fields,
alongside small homesteads filled with golden,
straw-colored dreams and clear streams of enchanted river songs
Guide
in her blindness,
it was the bright sounds
and the faithful shadows
that would guide her restless soul
Shade
cover me lightly with a soft and airy touch,
and i will grow strong and solid in the restful shade
