Category Creative Writing
Today’s the first official day of my venture into the “Book in a Month” system. According to the program, I should write a one sentence summary and fill out what’s called a Story Idea Map, as well as, write the… Continue Reading →
There wasn’t a lot left – a couple of drops, really. But it called to me and awakened something inside of me. Not really lust, not really gluttony, but more of a memory than anything else. It was a drop… Continue Reading →
In my constant search for all that is good and strong and beautiful, I sometimes find things in unexpected places. I don’t usually place any hope in the tourist traps that Santa Fe puts on; but this year, I found… Continue Reading →
Sunflowers rock. I think it’s awesome that when they’re “new” they stretch and re-position themselves to always face the sun; however, when they’re approaching their demise, they no longer do. The myth behind the sunflower is that a nymph named… Continue Reading →
Sometimes, I’m accused of being “abstract.” That is, people think that when I say things like, “You have the answers you need inside of you,” I’m being all new-age and non-specific. But I’m not. The simple fact is that we… Continue Reading →
I saw these horses on the way home today and they seemed so sad behind the barbed wire. In this series of three pictures, They seemed to be saying in the first (as one horse nuzzled into the other), “I… Continue Reading →
With a cool breeze in my face and the wind carrying the church bell’s song, I let feelings rise inside of me. Doubt crept into my mind: What if I’m just not good enough to “make it” as a writer?… Continue Reading →
drug-induced zombies breathe, angry that they do air is nothing more than poison to those who resent the day they first tasted oxygen they walk cavalier and rocky roads unaware of their cut and bleeding feet they just want… Continue Reading →
I wrote Journey to Aztlan to show people that there is hope for those who are stricken with Depression. For me, I found healing by returning to the very source of who I am and I believe that if everyone… Continue Reading →
i walk while detritus at my feet frames shards of broken lives that reflect a cubist distortion of what I could be bottle twists and pipe puffs could’ve scattered me among dead sagebrush and forgotten dreams but i ignored the… Continue Reading →
