poem fracture – age 32

Paper edges surround me,

the only things besides

your shattered bones and old

blankets that I can hold.


I can smell you fading,

While wishing you were here

despite the knowing

That every day, you get farther

and farther and farther


*I haven’t been able to write much about my beloved Hearing dog, Willow, that was more than just a dog to me for 11 years.  He was a son, friend, soul mate, companion.  He was my everything.  My better, kinder, wilder half.  Every year he is gone hurts.  I hope to write more about this feeling, but every time I try, it feels more like excavation than writing (though the most important writing likely is an excavation).

Willow, wherever you are, whatever form you have now, I love you.

willow by the falls
willow by the falls

a journal for writing at its most wild

This journal is going to be for publishing a small selection of my poetry, free writes, novel excepts, memoir excerpts, book reviews, and anything else that is more a piece of writing than an actual blog post.  It will focus on things I don’t see being published elsewhere, a journal for writing that doesn’t worry about rules.  My voice at its most raw, its most wild.
I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to follow me along if you do.
I’ll be posting things written from as far back as as age 7, because sometimes the things we write in our childhood are important, and sadly, most of them will most certainly never be published anywhere and the voice we had when we were young might not otherwise be heard.  Child voices are naturally raw, naturally wild.
Comments are appreciated, especially if I’ve inspired you to pull out something you wrote when you were a child or when you were too broken and damaged to write something that could possibly be edited and included in a novel or anthology or literary journal.
This is a journal in homage to all the wild words we can possibly say.