January 1, 2015


 I write and travel. I literally say whatever’s going through my mind upon speaking. Some seem to enjoy my no-nonsense honesty. Poetry happens when I organize my thoughts. Speaking of, some of my poetry can be found in Coe Review, Clockwise Cat and Mad Swirl, or here:

When Reality Interferes with Day Dreaming—
Fantasizing a Better Life for my Friend

I wondered about that look in his eyes
when he first saw her. I hoped I wasn’t
witnessing another desperate thud of love.
He just finished having his heart broken last week.

Earlier, he was moping,  
I don’t know how to speak to women.
I fall in love too quickly, I can’t help it.  
But he couldn’t stop staring.

She just sat there, at the bar,
her almond-hazelnut scent wafting our way.
I’d never seen such confidence
in him, his shoulders loose, his
intentions simple.

He strides over to her side,
wrapping his hands around her—
and she’s floating through the air, she feels high.
Her whole body tingles with excitement as he brings her so close
to his lips. The ease he does this suggest she feels like a liquid.
her head is swimming when he drinks her in.  

That’s a damn fine coffee, you’d like this one.
he tells me, snapping me out
of the fantasy I built for him.

I order chi tea instead. 


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