I almost didn’t include this here for its meaning was somehow taken in a negative context when from its inception it was to lend strength to the fact that we all have setbacks in healing. I refuse to always write fluffy (mind you I adore fluffy) because we aren’t always walking around pooping rainbows riding unicorns.

Whether it be from abuse, addiction, heartbreak, depression. Part of the growth comes from the fall. Those peripherals can often be silent little daggers just waiting as we walk along the path we pave for ourselves with every intent to travel cautiously and wisely. We can’t avoid them but we can arm ourselves with the tools and the recognition of knowing when the daggers are there in order to help us stitch the wounds if they find enough strength to hit dead center.

The courage to recognize that we have stumbled can be the biggest crow of all (on a side note I personally find crows majestic but just like everything else in life, society has programmed us to believe they are demonic and depressing so for that reason I turn to them for expression)

We aren’t perfect. And when you feel as if your family, your friends, your children, your spouse, your coworkers all have eyes on you it can perhaps be difficult to admit failure. That’s where shame and guilt struggle taking a back seat and that’s when the recognition of just how imperative it is to have your own personal arsenal of cheerleaders shines like a beacon in the night.

As we approach a new year, a new decade, I thank you for taking the time to read this and i hope this finds you well and offers comfort and a reminder this is a dirty pretty world we live in. We are all walking each other home.

always looking for my ray of light


caught in a dream

I’m so fortunate to live near the ocean and often visit the beach. Along the beaches of Corolla in North Carolina the horses run free. Armed with a Jeep and a camera I was able to capture these beauties in their perfectly wild element.

Thank you for viewing! You can view more of my photography on my Instagram feed here

sunday views and walks with you

i liken this image sunday views and walks with you. Taken in a botanical garden, i love the way the afternoon shade dances off the petals of this perfectly blushed magnolia bloom.

Thank you for viewing! For more of my photography you can visit my Instagram feed here

little tree along the sea

The Judeau Desert is a desert in Israel and the West Bank that lies east of Jerusalem and descends to the Dead Sea. This image I captured is atop Masada, an ancient fortification along the eastern edge of the Desert. With the Dead Sea lending a perfect backspace, this solemn tree stole the show for me.

Thank you for viewing! For more of my photography please visit my Instagram feed here




shady days

listen to reading of shady days

the moon abides

to carousel rides

where dapple grays slow a view

beneath the veil

of a sweet lullaby

to shady days far far away

from any yesterday

to meadows

where a wild resides

where flocks of wishes bloom in wait

to dress a laden spirit

where gallops chase lavender kisses

and slow

to drink the sun

where weeds slip between strides

cresting to constellations

spun beyond manicured paths

where darkness need not race the night


featured artwork by Chiara Bautista



i never liked roller coasters

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

with no harness to my soul

roaring through the fog

screams come in weightless free-fall

and then as if in a trance

the rush of the climb finds gravity

with eyes closed

i search for my rooted resilience

that ever growing twig

hiding among wildflower fields

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

where echoes of times past try to embrace me

to when a jolly soul with his cookie breath

or that midnight tooth sleuth

birthed a hope

floating along a river calm

where faith was a silent friend

when rose colored glasses were but a pretty trinket

no fear of a wolf in the shadows waiting to be fed

where instead piles of leaves giggled back at me

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

where red velvet curtains sway

hiding the weird mangled bits

where a coin and twisted curiosity

will give you a different view

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

where thoughts stick

like cotton candy glue

riding that sugar wave

an addictive rush

until its dead end

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

where flowers thought pretty

spray of stale laughter

hiding behind painted smiles

…yet here i am

in this traveling carnival show

where buckets drip of dreams

from ferris wheels in a balloon filled sky

around they go

until rust takes hold

and slows the parade

…yet still

here i am

in this traveling carnival show


feeding these falls

all the while hidden

within the folds of my screams

lingers still a hope

resting upon my breast

blisters now

from my every burn

but even pained it still tries to drive

my every haphazard course

upon this track

where my inconvenient heart resides

in its traveling carnival show


when my soul is dry

its likened to float

to where it remembers you

for some days it forgets

those darkened dreamer eyes

those softly loud saucers

painting Picasso’s with a blindfold

its in the tiny little things

that hold you

like the bird today

that i’m certain was wearing a top hat

tap dancing to my ears

demanding i look up

perched there

in his morning solo

but it wasn’t he, no

it was the horizon in this tilt

i’m certain meant for me

and my soul again wet

for there in silent show

were those eyes winking back at me

orphaned dreams wandering

in every hue you painted

waiting to be plucked




beneath our tree

where my lungs come back to me

for it is there

among borrowed ears

the cadence of you,

of i

falls freely

beneath blooming arms, those towering magic wands

those leaves, an artistic blend of hues

lent by the color of our words

birthed from our woes, our joys

now drip dropping in tiny doses

a repertoire of moments

gifts caressed from our swollen lips

beneath this our found sanctum

a secret place, a perfect hiding spot

where treasured scribing

and whispers in the wind

hold a love affair in soft reverie

infused within the veins of its hollow

beyond distances they traveled

weathered testaments of time

reaching for the sun

how they glow

how it flows



reflecting within

beneath our tree

where my lungs come back to me


screenshot_2016-05-03-07-05-14-1-1.pnga dancer,

stilled on blades of ice

collecting the rhythm to a symphony of breaths far below

for she,

with eyes resistant to a world

can find such a place as barren as she

to power

to ignite

forgotten steps thawed in the dance

silent little daggers

to her breast with fire they stake

wanting simply to be remembered

simply seen

simply undressed

in she