poem: quiet river

poem: quiet river

quiet river, slipping past. a symphony of beauty, playing all the time. trickling, tinkling, gurgling, gushing; meandering down its path. no director, script or score, no curtain call and queerer still– no audience at all.   The story: I wrote this poem...
What Kind of Mother?

What Kind of Mother?

I’ve worked with many a Closet Creative who is a mother. Her greatest fear is that choosing her own path amounts to abandoning her children. By moving forward despite her fear and claiming her own dreams anyway, there always comes an incredible moment of...
Poem: Buds

Poem: Buds

Buds you wake, deep within the bark, while we still think it’s winter you somehow know, to start your work before the world outside seems ready you somehow trust the coming of the sun, undeterred by winter’s darkest, coldest hours what memory! what timing!...
Demon In the Dark

Demon In the Dark

Demon demon in my head Leave me alone! Get outta my bed! I could sleep in peace but you come in war slithering darkly ‘cross my floor. I’m tired. I’m wired. panic is coursing through my veins. my heart is gripped by primal fear of what?...