ink and water
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Open Fully
blessèd with a line from rosemerry wahtola trommer the poem you’re going to write tomorrowis unfailingly held somewhere today,no telling where,but an incipient poem is always in the space between things, invisible,suspended in stillness,fiercely alive with potential energy. it does not belong to any one or any thingbut is nonetheless poised in starting position,present, available on… Continue reading
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Caprices of Creating
auspice i step outdoors into the charcoal velvet of predawn,stride into my day, greet crescent moonand orion who both shine just above the treelineas mr. kenley, in my audiobook, grabs his son’s handand points to a vast star-studded sky, saying“look! see the three stars in orion’s belt?” moon and ilock eyes—break into matching crooked grins, deeply… Continue reading
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In the Grip
my first demi-sonnet —with thanks to erin murphy for inventing the form and to alex dawson for the opening six words here the monster isn’t under my bed isn’t behind the shower curtain isn’t in the closet at my back as i write. i looked.the monster is the story i tell myself when given a prompt in class with… Continue reading
My Story
In 2014, I grab an unexpected opportunity to paint.
To make art.
I get hooked.
In 2015 I start a blog—a diary of my creative practice.
I post my paintings and their stories. The good, the bad, the ugly.
In 2025 I begin writing poetry and include a poem and painting in each post.
My compass points: shake hands with fear, be playful, get messy, trust my gut.
