Prose & Poetry

I am not a saint merely, A wilted plant, acquiescent Paralyzed by inaction I am weary […]

May the blessings of the Allfather light your precious path Sing, sing of your glorious, gleaming

Held up in traffic I saw him walk away from the corner we were meeting on

There are poems Who LEAVE me Feeling cornered Like at a party with That one guy

Alexis St. Martin sat on a hospital bed and watched the falling snow coat a large

You drew me into the thicket, and didn’t warn me of the thorns. Little insults dug

Ever notice how the same place looks and feels so different depending on where you are

Skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days, Hair grows six inches a year. Eyelashes shed every month

I’ll refrain,To save us a fight.No time, no energy,For this useless fight.Yet you insist,Don’t hold your