Poetry
Poetry
Always a Child
In the darkness of your broken nightlight, you whispered stories to yourself until you fell asleep. Ogres and wolves were all that haunted your dreams. Monsters were slain with swords and tricks by a hero, clever and brave, quick on his feet, everything you were supposed to be. You shot up like a beanstalk, left
Listen
The scrape of laughter fills the bar & preying, prying eyes behind shot glasses leer as she ventures in— dainty fingers quiver, holding a virgin pen. She signs then passes to a confident meaty hand & a variegated band of voices begins to create a list. She stands, goes first— steps over snickers to stage
Reverb
Day six dawned breathingwords echoing nightfallThe reverb cut clean. *** Art Credit: Reverb by Tamara Spence
Audio Collage
I went to hear my favorite poet speak, And was pleased to find that So many had come To hear and be touched by his gentle verse. And yet upon reflection, I wonder if we really heard The message he weaves through words. When it was all over, Fragments of a dozen conversations Drifted to
Lovers
Who is this person? The one in my mind, Awake or asleep, So gentle, so warm, The one who touches me Completely, For the first time. The mind falls silent, Bowing to heart’s Whispered reply.
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Novels and Collected Works
Always a Child
In the darkness of your broken nightlight, you whispered stories to yourself until you fell asleep. Ogres and wolves were all that haunted your dreams. Monsters were slain with swords and tricks by a hero, clever and brave, quick on his feet, everything you were supposed to be. You shot up like a beanstalk, left
Listen
The scrape of laughter fills the bar & preying, prying eyes behind shot glasses leer as she ventures in— dainty fingers quiver, holding a virgin pen. She signs then passes to a confident meaty hand & a variegated band of voices begins to create a list. She stands, goes first— steps over snickers to stage
Reverb
Day six dawned breathingwords echoing nightfallThe reverb cut clean. *** Art Credit: Reverb by Tamara Spence
Audio Collage
I went to hear my favorite poet speak, And was pleased to find that So many had come To hear and be touched by his gentle verse. And yet upon reflection, I wonder if we really heard The message he weaves through words. When it was all over, Fragments of a dozen conversations Drifted to
Lovers
Who is this person? The one in my mind, Awake or asleep, So gentle, so warm, The one who touches me Completely, For the first time. The mind falls silent, Bowing to heart’s Whispered reply.