If I woke up on an island
alone
I would call it a vacation.
What better way to escape
this home I built with you.
Poetry
Epiphany
they call it when
little bits of wisdom
rapidly combust in
a mental flash fire.
What then is it called
when random little
moments of thankfulness
strike like leaves
floating to the ground.
Shapeshifter
It seems obvious
the magic we hold.
It’s almost amazing,
the way men haven’t figured it out yet.
We,
women,
are shapeshifters.
Sandcastles
Detours and roadblocks and gilded bars.
Lines drawn in the sand
I wouldn’t cross except
that they were drawn by a hand
that isn’t mine.
Sign Here
Why does everyone assume that all souls
Sold were bought by the devil
When roads are paved with dotted lines
and all of life’s masters demand that you sign?
After-all “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
642 Poems and More 