Digging deep, shadowy moor.

Dark of night.

Never alone, except with

my confession.

Hoping to always,

be out of


Crackling leaves,

whispery breeze.

Snap of a stick,

heart skips a beat.

Smooth down earth,

skulk away.

One score settled.

One more to pay.


Response to dVerse Quadrille




I hear the voice from afar

In the darkness where I do not exist

Bringing black from nothing

Looming voice, advancing, stirring

Calling me from within, without

Like echoes of falling rain

Persistent as a virus

I become

As light penetrates the cracks


Trembling with the sound of light

Condemnation whirls around the edge

Of the world in which I am

There seems to be no place for me

In lands of steel and stone

Weather patterns more of me

Entombed inside the global cell

White pain

Lonesome journey of the soul



How many ways can I fill the days?

The weeks, months and years

Pass by in bitter memories.


Hope is eternally bright

Yet brings the dark stench

Of despair

To my door

To my home

To my heart


Never repaired

As it was never formed





Grounded only by the clunk

Of metal on metal

The scratching within

That will never leave me in peace

Only in pieces

Three Women

My existence crumbled when the news came.

How could this be?

Cruel words from cruel deed,

designed to wound the soul.

It worked.


The blackness came and came,

returning in rushes like cyclonic waves.

With only a split second or two,

here or there,

to catch a glimpse of the life I once knew.


Running, running, running, running.

From the pain, from the fear, from here.

I need you but first I must survive the day.


The first gave me space to try

out my new persona.


The second gave me relief

for a fraction of a second.


You gave neither.

You held. You stayed.

You bore witness.

Then you welcomed me back,

with my shame.


You collected the shattered remains

of my existence.

You kept them safe

and allowed me to peer at them,

from a distance,

before deciding which ones I wanted to take.


You have kept the rest for me.

We know what is there.

I do not want them

but, if I do,

I have faith

you will keep them forever safe.


Whether in this life or another,

I will collect them when I can.

In the meantime,

I will hold others’,

and we will work together.

serpentine way

she winds her way


meandering paths

spirit within


beneath skies littered with lights

through forests that speak

with the clarity of sages

crackling leaves

streams as fresh

as midnight air

from hills

through towns

to drink at the bay

her winding way