How to cook the perfect dinner for that special someone so they will love you forever:

6 cups of Blood

5 Moments

3 cups of regret

1 TBSP of joy

3 sprigs of Rosemary

1/2 cup of sugar

3 tsp of sweat

Pour ingredients into a pot

Or a cauldron 

Add heat

And sparkles

Stir the pot

Let everything simmer

If they sit at your table

Offer your heart as the appetizer 

Save what matters 

For the main course

Never share

The recipe 


When you tripped meWhen the train left

When the answer was no

When the laughter echoed 

Face hot

At the front of the classroom

When the phone didn’t ring

And I dragged myself

Like a dead bird

On the end of a leash

When my teeth cracked

From clenching too hard

When you left

And you left

And you left me wondering

And I stopped wanting to watch

The sunrise

And when a secret was too good

To keep and I threw up my loyalty 

And when I was hard and rocky

When I wanting to see me


To find pieces of myself

In different time zones.

When I made myself the villain

And crowned myself queen

Of this mess 

And then the times when I twisted 

Ugly just to see your reaction

The times when I lied like a punishment

I couldn’t follow through on.

Every time I turned to a lamp shade 

When I thought I was unworthy.

I am here now

For every decision

Every mistake

Every choice

I make

Has led me here

And I will always

Be thankful


The past is staleDark

And heavy.

A stone buried

In the smokey earth.

A dirt-born tongue that runs

A warm memory 

Over its ashen body.

We remember

And trust the images.

Watch photos burn

And ignite our present days

With the kindling of a faded


Call our imaginations forth

Feel for the empty spaces

In the dark

Looking for a familiar hand 

To grasp.


8 Faces with fabric and fantasies

Weave words that whisper stories

In a low rumble.

Here at the writers coffee meeting

We are working through our mortality 

Grasping at descriptions

And details

And mind wanderings

Wading through this mess.

The creative condition

That curses 

And holds up our voices. 

Muses and misery

And bloody hands

That attempt to carve masterpieces

From what is broken 


In a circle 

We share what it is

To be lightening rods. 



you can have it all!

You can go to work and do 90%

of the household chores.

You can emotionally support the world

then not get invited to contribute

to conversations.

To be told to sit down

and do what suits you best.


You are after all


You’re naturally

just good at those things.


just good at taking it all on.

God made you strong.

The world made your strong.

men told you to be strong

when they wanted to kick their feet up

and complain about how lazy you are.


You can have it all!

You can embrace your sexuality

and call other women sluts in the same breath.

You can fuck who you want

and then get criticized for it!

You can stop fucking all together

and get called uptight.

Oh isn’t it great to have so many choices?

You can be a mother and compare notes with

doctors and teachers and other mothers on the playground

you can be childless and feel the pressure to procreate

from friends and family and lovers

you can do anything you want

as long as you understand

that you will be criticized for any choice you make

this is

after all

what women should expect, right?