Sorry for the lack of posting this month. Here’s the reason why:

This year, I am planning to participate in NaNoWriMo!

Confused about what that is? Visit

With a quill pen!
And yes, I am writing it ALL by hand.

Here’s the link to my novel page:

And I will be posting updates throughout the month of November, as well as (at some point) a poll to help me find a better title for this thing.

I have been spending the past few weeks prepping and practicing fiction writing as opposed to my normal poetry to help me get warmed up.

Wish me luck!


Election Burnout

“Love your neighbor” becomes a new proposition

when all your neighbors hate one another;

to serve a God who loves Donald and Ben,

Hillary, Bernie, and Carly and Ted,

Who died for each polled member of the populace

and loves Marco as much as Joe,

Who remembers the names of all the candidates

and every thought they ever had

and every hair that was ever theirs–

this is no simple proposition.

To hear the still small voice of Truth above all the talking heads

and empty words and vitriol

and to remember that you too are in need of grace

and that to pray for our country

we must first love it (and here we must remember

the proper order of loves: for one can love Caesar

without burning incense) in spite of all the NOISE

that surrounds every thought we may have

about anything that supposedly matters

(Did your hear the one about Trump?

Did you hear the one about Clinton?

Did you hear the one about _____?

It is unAmerican to do everything;

It is unAmerican to do nothing)

sometimes I wonder if it is worth it

if there is any point in caring:

because after all, I am one small person

in a vast arena of shouting sports fans:

and I might be wearing the wrong color.

I don’t know.

But if I take my primary command still to be:

love your neighbor

then perhaps it is a form of love to listen

and to care with those who care.

(Still, I do not know who is right

and if anyone demands that I have an opinion

they can go stuff their head in a poll booth.)

With sincerest apologies to anyone who was hoping for something more thoughtful.


Companion to last post, Disintegration. 

How sweet it is when sisters live

in counterpoint melodies

resolving to harmony

punctuated only by companionable silence.

When the morning sizzle of breakfast

replaces anger

and the tears are shared, not inflicted.

how utterly indescribable

is the smallest moment

infused with scents of paradise

and colored with beauty beyond the visible spectrum.

if no eye has seen what is prepared,

nor ear has heard

then how can we even begin to fathom

when even this pale shadow of harmony

five times brighter than the sun

more intense than a rainbow

more welcoming than the scent of home

is so much less than the promise of true communion:

for truly, it is sweet.



The girl often feels like she is surrounded by eggshells; as if her outward persona is as thin and fragile as an eggshell, that at any moment, the thing inside her would break lose and show its ugly head.

The girl fights with a demon, a demon known as depression. It makes her fear being alone because it is when she is alone that the demon can attack. Imagine struggling everyday just to get out of bed, imagine struggling to make yourself do your work everyday when depression wants you to curl up in the corner of a dark room and brood. This was the girl’s past and it is the thing she constantly fears the return of. Despite being surrounded by people who love her and care about her, the girl is afraid of being alone and the return of her demon.

She does not know why causes the…

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