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Cat Over Clock

Poetry Saves the World

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writing

Brooms

I have an hour before I launch— before the air becomes stiff and tight around me, and I forget how to move and breathe. In this place, I like to say that I am ready to understand myself and the... Continue Reading →

Narrative Medicine and the Wild Woman Archetype

It is anchoring me to the book that's inside of me, yearning to spill onto a page, and it is sparking in me this desire to share the importance of narrative medicine.

Rib to Rib

In the face of chaos Spring shows herself to me. Beyond measure of my body The length from toe to head, width of rib to to rib I’m just with myself. But I can be with everything else, stuck in... Continue Reading →

Vernal Equinox and the Worm Moon

I am the one who glows asks wildness of humanity controls the tides asks for nothing is worshiped and followed knows her path and purpose keeps time with the ocean bends on knees to no one loves and guide others... Continue Reading →

Star Dust

For James: What draws out the chaos other than dreams Dreams of lips with me Covering me Devouring me I can't breathe An echo brings me back in time A thousand letters that can't mark the cold in my heart... Continue Reading →

The Disconsolate Suffers its Host

Aislin ran within me footprints on the walls of my intestines breaking the best I could offer with protest. Character flaws. But mostly hiding her under the lined paper. Coloring over her with the tip of my pen. I saw... Continue Reading →

IPRC: On the Move 

The space that currently holds a beloved arts community, the Independent Publishing Resource Center in Portland, Oregon, will be emptying this year.  It's a place I have called a second home since last September.  On my blog pages, you can find... Continue Reading →

1001 Journal: submissions open

Hello, friends!  In September of 2015, I began the Certificate Program at the Independent Publishing Resource Center in Portland, Oregon. This place is amazing and I love our instructors and all the energy of this awesome creative environment. I am... Continue Reading →

27

Dear Emily, She conjured up ghosts for me and left them in the alley haunting the exits. The cold wind blew my hair into my mouth as I touched a poet's velvet patched elbows. Another perfectly written scene. We were... Continue Reading →

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