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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

Process and Practice

Being a writer, I think a lot about both the writing process and writing practice.  I have realized over the past year, how these things fluctuate and my views about both shift and change. Continue reading “Process and Practice”

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Shards of Cherry Blossoms

My contribution to this months Visual Verse challenge is, I think, an example of how uninspired my writing has been lately, but still I share…….I am truly not being self deprecating or looking for objections to my claim.  Sometimes you just know when things aren’t coming together, and I am simply in one of those stages.  This to shall pass.  On that note……makes you really want to read it, doesn’t it!!

If you would like, you can read it here.

The Consequences of Blindness

I read a post this morning from Sightless Musings, that hit me at my core. Please read it.

I was going to write about writing today, about feeling completely inarticulate, but after reading the above mentioned post, I changed course a bit. I am still feeling like a complete bumbler in regard to my writing, but I press on and tell this story (if you can call it that) anyway.  Continue reading “The Consequences of Blindness”

The Writer

I have been finding it very difficult to get inspired to write any poetry lately, until yesterday, when I read the beautiful poem, “The Poet~part 2”, from The Stories In Between.  What I wrote is pale in comparison to his gorgeous poem, just the unedited bones of a first draft, but it was wonderful to feel the inspiration.

The Writer

Light flits off an empty screen,

taunting me,

throwing doubt into my eyes.

Why must I always break through the waves,

only to find my mouth full of ash?

My feet are less steady each time I stand,

heart hollow from the effort.

I try to shake the brittle ink from the pen,

but the emptiness is so loud,

painful to the touch.   

My words become frail in the heat,

all sense of myself siphoned into the sun.

 

 

Swallowing Voices

Lately, I am a blade on the wind.  Unsteady.  Damaging. I am trapped in the clutches of an elixir that lies.  I swallow the murmurs of depression with bottles of wine and bags of crisps, but can’t ever fully escape the noise.   It sits heavy in my belly and pushes out through my skin.  I wear it in my poems about fat girls and self loathing. I hold it against the roof of my mouth and in my clenched jaw, trying not to wake up.  Trying not to see. Continue reading “Swallowing Voices”

A Cool Opportunity

Visual Verse is celebrating their 5th birthday and to honor their first wonderful 5 years, they are giving VV contributors a super cool opportunity.  Find out what it is here.

Ink in Thirds

I love Thursdays.  Every Thursday, Ink in Thirds hosts a wonderful opportunity to create poetry with their Three Line Thursdays.  It is a beautifully creative and inspiring space frequented by writers I have come to admire and adore!  This Thursday is especially great because it marks the release of the newest issue of Ink in Thirds, including one of my poems.  It is made even more special because the poem is one of my Three Line Thursday contributions.

You can find the current issue here.

I am thrilled and honored to be a part of the current issue of Ink in Thirds!!!  My huge thanks to editor and curator, Grace Black.

Random Acts

So I wrote the post about my brother, which I needed to do, and afterward, I needed to get out and stretch my legs and my mind and my spirit.  I decided to return to our local hiking spot, thinking that there couldn’t possibly be an incident like the last one.   Continue reading “Random Acts”

Increments of Five

Why is it that we give monument to increments of five? Why do five and ten hold more weight than three or seven?  The fifth anniversary of my brother’s death just passed and five years feels impossible.  I have this disbelief that he is gone, and at the same time, feel the unbearable weight of his absence.  How can he be dead?  How can five years have gone by? How is it that life just continues, as if time forgot the sound of his laughter and his suffering?   Continue reading “Increments of Five”

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