I don’t know if

Imago Dei


God and I

Share a face

But if it does

I’d like to learn

Not to hate it



Out of all

The red brick houses

I find myself to be

A grey stone


An emotionally driven question…

What are my emotions worth if all they are,

is the result of my imperfect perception

possibly misinterpreting what I have heard?

We are clearly emotional beings,

because everyone has feelings.

Yet, I find myself grappling with this question,

because I find that so much in my life depends

on my emotions.

How can it be though?

When nearly all my emotions are through a lens of

imperfection, misinterpretation, and misinformation,

how is it that emotions

end up being the deciding factor for most things?

What good are they when they are more likely to be

misdirected, misunderstood, and misguided?


Competitive Poet

As if there isn’t enough pressure They demand poets come up with New ways to measure Each other like we’re Some kind of competition And that puts the poet In an awkward position Because last time I checked My feelings … Continue reading


Wisdom and Pain

I don’t have A thousand things to say Because at the end of the day Nothing I say ends up being heard So I filter Keep the things that seem simple…too simple Inside this mind Like a tiny prison of … Continue reading



He was not alone

Rejoined said with struggle

Home again he wanders

Blue and crimson in his bloodshot eyes

Buried in his own skin

Like the bullets his heart

Was so fond of catching

And holding fast too long

Those mists of the deep

Would not drag him to a grave

He would willingly march there

Were he breathless and without flag flying

Diligent and unwavering

Shut away from himself

Gone now to a place he could never seem

To bring himself back from



Too many bullet points And not enough bullets In this meeting Advertisements



The skeletons in my closet Hang right next to my Little black dresses And we often get together To have dance parties And sometimes They borrow my clothes And impersonate me But I still leave them there Hanging by those … Continue reading


Potluck Life

My life is just This big potluck  Where everyone has Something to bring to the table And half the time I forget to bring anything at all Advertisements