Do Not Disturb
…maybe a pen and some ink
and the luxury of stacks of blank pages. And a little desperation to keep me honest.
A little agony never hurts.
That’s all I need…
Tag: Ret’s Legend
Little pieces of Ret’s lore and the back-story to the characters, Ret, Rafe, Cole, and Hunter.
Aadan
I know a little boy
with a dragon
awake in a world
made of wool and kindling…
Brucie
Recently I’ve been learning all I can about trees. It’s been a long time coming. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but this life pulled me out from under my seedling mother and branched me off in so many directions that I forgot all about the roots underneath my …
Accretion
Today is Muse’s birthday. And for her birthday she’s given us a gift. She calls it “Accretion.”
White Roses (Pt. 1)
Spring’s arrival was still a ways out but despite the snow and sleet it RSVP’d in the dead of winter. The snow was piled high by the street well out of the mailman’s way. The front sidewalk was clear. The neighbors’ walks were clear to boot and their steps swept …
Proper Windage
…little me underground, fading, stalking, pretending to be dead, aiming to end a thing that has no heart and already has a bullet in the head…
Reconnect
Today I rocked, I wrote, I plucked my strings, I nailed a poem called “the little things” and then I did a victory dance around the house, and I don’t mean just on the inside.
Declassified
This world loves its labels. So I’ve labelled this “Declassified.” It’s a Ghost’s story for this new year’s night but to the rangers, witches, and wolves among us it is a howl flung in your direction, a notice served, a warning or perhaps a confirmation, a blank postcard from parts …
Open Hearts.
With my last few drops, Muse demanded I tell you that this one’s best paired with a glass of red wine and Concrete Blonde’s “Bloodletting” and/or The Rage’s “Fistful of Steel” gently lurking in the background… Muse, you’ve taught me so much about wood and stone. I now wish to …
Loose Leaf
Some loose-leaf poetry from “Declassified,” a ghost’s story. in the still I must refine pull leaves from wind’s stream so to taste them in a curl on the sides little pieces to consider mid-dream in the still I refine in the still the still I must refine the witches dance …