Indie Author

Finding & Creating Beauty in Unlikely Places

Month: September 2016

Poem: Media

We crave brokenness
like the mob craves the
like serial killer lust
for that next victim
come on
make us feel better
about ourselves
tell us about the
shock over your fifth
failed marriage
show up meth-faced
messed up for that
DUI mug shot
wear pasties in public
proclaim it empowerment
inhale misery deep
hail to the
right of legalized
self-abuse with someone
else’s forgotten daughter
down dog across your lap
your Rehab-Pride parades
merely symptomatic
of our voyeuristic tendencies
as we throw another log on
the pyre
and laugh while the witch burns
my soul feels
when I leave the television off
and ignore the Yahoo news thread.

Poem of the Week: Home

all I want is to go home
the place we’re all trying to
get back to
it exists in those
moments memory makes
beautiful walks forgotten halls
in the hours I would spend
lying in bed
Mazzy Star or early folk Jewel
playing I would watch the light
display of moon and headlights
waltz on darkened dancefloor
walls the crickets’ haunting cry
is still the lullaby and me with
nowhere I had to be the next
but home
It’s easy to forget the freedom
of letting your world weight
sink into plush carpet or hardwood
earth why are we so afraid with age
to curl fetal positioned surrendered
so close to the ground
we forget what letting go felt like
before our freedom seduced us into
different chains I miss when the
daydreams of the grind were
yesterday’s stolen seconds reality
I would sit in the abandoned cemetery
with only the open hay fields and
woods and forgotten souls for
company when peace was its own
poetry the rest got lost with Barbie clothes
hides in the forest with The Last Unicorn
and sleeps in gingerbread houses my
mind used to color pictures of and if there
was a bread trail traced in moonlight
leading back to mother’s arms anything
could fix would I crawl back into the
wolf’s belly so warm captive but connected
to the part of me contented to just
Sometimes I wish
she wasn’t so hard to find
All times I wish
I could take you there with me.

Coming Soon! Only for a Moment


Poetry is an act of survival. A cry to everyone and no one. Intensely personal, shamelessly honest, and oftentimes an admission of inner ugliness, Only for a Moment chronicles nineteen years of the author’s life. It explores ideas of transience, transition, and redemption through the battlegrounds of metamorphosis from young girl to woman. Each poem presents a snapshot; a puzzle piece of what ultimately becomes a collective consciousness. A road map to trace back through the labyrinth of people and experiences that define us.

This past year I made it a point to focus on studying and writing real poetry with my high school sophomores. I was inspired by the Brave New Voices poetry slams that were filmed by HBO, and my students were equally excited to see young artists expressing themselves in such a unique, freeing way. Poetry Fridays turned into therapy sessions, bonding experiences, and artistic showcases. By the end of the year my classes were two pretty tight-knit families, at least on Poetry Fridays.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to join my guys in creating poetry. As a writer, it’s felt like returning to my first love. Many of the poems in Only for a Moment were birthed on those Poetry Fridays. Many were inspired by my students’ experiences as well as remembrances of my own turbulent teen years. I decided to go back and polish many of the verses I wrote during that time, and this collection captures the best of my writing thus far. It includes many of the poems previously released in my “Poem of the Week” posts, as well as many that have not been released before.

I’m thrilled to be showcasing the amazing art of a dear friend, Zyrax,  in this volume as well. He created the cover art as well as the illustrations that precede each section of the collection.


Only for a Moment will be released in Fall of 2016. Stay tuned for purchasing info and for announcement of Goodreads and Smashwords Giveaways!



Poem of the Week: Lead

The heaviest regret is silence
anchored in my core thicker
than cement the tissue has
grown up
and attached
it is rooted
a permanent fixture
in all those
words I never said
made manifest deafening in
like when Fear was a clamped hand
over my mouth its bony white fingers
I imagined were the skeletons of your
threats, little did I know
that twenty hours
Skittle handfuls of Zoloft
a box of syringes hidden behind your
the pink flesh game of chess you
rip-skin played on the canvas of your
arms and legs spelled the necessity
that I
in my coward’s clothes
was unwilling to shield you with
I abandoned your vices to your own
the lie I whispered through stitched lips
said my warning would make it worse
that stiff breeze would shift your dangling
feet off the precipice edge what it failed to
tell me was that your toes inched slowly
one bloodied day after another
in silence I watched you suffer
shuffle to the mantras of your own
incessant whispers
soldered in and I convinced myself
that I was the best one to help you
in me you trusted
to me you handed those ashes
you said spit in them and I will see
but my Messiah’s robes were
counterfeited by coward’s clothes
no faith
to turn your wine to water with
no faith
that with my outstretched hands
you’d walk on it
instead of swallowing all that salt
I tread riptides of regret
its serrated tips pierce my tongue
and I swallow tsunami oceans
of all you went through.

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