Had my soul been a house. It would have been filled with spirits of an anonymous kind. Disenchanted mirrors. Spouting monomers, not so refined. The phrase, "I love you." spoken in jest. "I love you." Bringing to my earth only dust. ♠ However, I am not a house. I am a woman made of pliable, … Continue reading the House that Eugene Built
What an after-bite? This lone house. Leaving all who have entered. Only stranger than before. Elusive participants in vigorous fights. Pastime for plights. Decoys for spite. This house has an after-bite. To the estranged, stranger... Something not quite right. Something...is not quite right.
Religiously, a book with no spine. A sisterhood cloaked by falsehoods. What of the charm? Belonging to the woman with masks for misdeeds. How did it feel? Ignoring the abuse? Spinster Sister how can shame be the family's noose. ∃ Your summer winds blow in shallow. Leaving no taste, no permanence... That cannot be erased. … Continue reading Spinster Lee
I do not want to think of him. Though...I do. The brother I once knew. Born an old man. He had been more than my father could stand. His persona... Larger than a vat of well stirred anger. Hope never surrounded him. Love, seemed a danger. ∞ Even now, alive...but his breathing unwell. I think … Continue reading Memories of My Brother
I cannot count the years I fought. To get away from you. And, as I reach for that always distant pen... I cannot bring myself to describe the where, the when. ⇔ Reaching with youthful hand. Stretching with gnarled fist. Someday, freedom will receive its wish. ⇔ When the secular hold opens a book. From … Continue reading When Worlds Collide