Category: the struggle is real

love as a verb

It’s my finger tracing your eyebrow or my hand upon your chest – lingering as long as it can in a caress that won’t wake you.  It’s a touch that calms and a kiss that conquers.  It’s an uncomfortable distance I allow to keep you safely breathing – the nights alone and the tears that quietly glide down the walls of me.  It’s your … Read More love as a verb

newport & nothing

Free-write to stimulate.  We are struggling – the both of us.  I laugh as we try, desperatlely, to recreate the temptress of words.  Fruitless we are in this dingy beach ‘paradise’ god forsaken excuse of a retreat for the writers within us.  Not without Big Sur.  Not without Jack and Henry.  Not upon this balcony that forces our attention to the dirty mayhem beneath … Read More newport & nothing

finding my way home

I felt myself traveling away from me in those moments and days I let me fall into you.  You holding me up in your way held me captive as I experienced what had never before been a gift to me.  If I could have found a way to exist solely in those moments I might have let you love me longer.  But living as a … Read More finding my way home

reflections on the hill i was late to climb over

I did not…I wasn’t even fucking close to…getting this one right away, this 50-thing…just as I did not get 40…or 30, or likely any decade before the afore mentioned decades.  I had great aspirations and goals for the turning of each; only to find that where I found myself at the changing-of-the-calendar-guard was not, in fact, remotely even hopefully close to where I actually … Read More reflections on the hill i was late to climb over