Prose; Adoration Be Damned


Here is some of my prose from last year. Have a great weekend! I’m stalking a case for spring in the autumn of my middle age. My assembled energy is diametrically opposite that of needing the validation of an amassed group of imposters pretending to agree so they can drink together later. It’s not that …

The sex sense – an alien perspective on love and reductionism


I took an Excedrin for the morning’s headache, got back in bed and did some Wim Hof Migraine Breathing. Three cheers for our pal, Mr. Hof!!! The pain vanished, and the caffeine took me back to the words of my dear mother, God rest her soul. “We live in a sex cult.” Yeah, right out …

Intimacy; Familiar Lover


It's so much easier to melt into your warm flesh because I know how you smell and your voice. It's just the nurturing comfort I need right now but you won't kiss me as you did before. Something is distinctly unfamiliar... You feel different in my bed, humidity on a dry. cold, windy day when …

Prose; Getting Lost


I loved that, as soon as I walked in the time-honored door, profusely late, you were concerned that I'd gotten lost, in trouble, or something else. Melt.  Kiss. Mmmmm.  That's the good stuff.  I'm going there and staying in that sterling feeling.  It's a crack memory in my brain.  No one can take it away.  …

Prose; Skin


The shell of a turtle, a carapace, guards your continuance of electric water, straight to your brain, pulls your vibration down in by degrees. Your skin like a husk full of ridges on corn smells sweet, hard to pull off at the bottom, tassles so soft on my face, the smell of earth. Your arm was …

Prose; Fact or Fiction


There are two paths leading up to the summit on the mountain. The mountain is the universe of Mind, Heart, and Knowledge. The scales of justice, held by blindfolded Athena have innocuously, with no offense, decided that fiction is just a fact told yesterday or... planning to be told in the future. The only fact …

Prose; Why Can’t I See You?


  I'm behind a screen. It's a beautiful, sapphire screen for some reason with geometric shapes all over it gleaming like a wet, rolling, tumultuous ocean. The wind is so brisk it's almost cold and my hair won't stay off my face. Why am I still alone standing on this beach? Why do you want …

Prose; Wanting to Be Right


Why do we want to be right all the time? Why do I want to be right most of the time? Why do I glee over saying, "See, I was right!" Because we doubt ourselves too much so we are reassuring ourselves by saying it. Because others who doubt themselves doubt us and say it! …

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