serialized. two of seven.

She arrives at a cottage surrounded by pine trees that smells like chimney smoke. She does not consider intention’s involvement with this destination. A dusty window reveals a near empty room. There is a stool, a bench, a basket and a bookshelf. Initially she does not enter. Clara strolls the perimeter of the small stone structure. There is a rocking chair on the front porch beside a potted plant and bouquet of orange chrysanthemums. She...

serialized. one of seven.

They say the answer comes naturally if you ask when you sleep. Not before. Not after. During. She regains focus with a name on her lips. Wrapped in lace. It is something uncommon. Something she wants to speak without knowing to who. No conception. The viridescent realm of her barefoot travel was scented with young flowers and fresh rain. Sounds of nature supported the low Bach hum vibrating her chest from the inside out. A distant waterfall. A...

French night. deadly feature.

Last night I attended a French gala at the residence of the wildly talented and most stunning Jessica Tremp. Baguettes were saturated in steaming fondue and various triple cream delights; caviar was licked from fingers; twirling occurred to various French tracks within dim candlelight in between courses. Everyone in attendance was suited up or in a ball gown. We ogled at each other's stilettos and twisted hairdos into shoulder exposed French...

no really. our cult’s the most talented.

I'm pretty spoiled with bragging rights. I'm blessed with the incredible fortune of being surrounded by sickly talented humans with a spectrum of creative skills. For example... My Australian family. Please makes sure to read the words of Rijn Collins in her corner of web-land, inkymouth. The amazing muse Lisa whose light you can bask in at watermelonsnaps. Naturally you're already reading along with my soul sister yt sumner by now... Finally,...

inspiration

Inspiration is like crack rock to Artists. I personally think it gets worse as I age. I begin to overflow with angst if too long passes in between my treasured moments of sanity when I feel inspired. The rest of the time in between is... well... just that. Time in between. Today was very fabulous because two different music tracks inspired two very different poems. In the writing group I co-host, common conversations are about how creative work...
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