Canferatu: The Prequel

In which our heroine finds herself clutched in the monster’s filthy, razor sharp claws, afraid for her life. Introduction: The scripting process begins and ends This narrative slowly opens and possibly took several years for the writer to realize the finished script. Editing the story of a life continues beyond publication, past the timeline of… Read More Canferatu: The Prequel

The Gracie Foundation

The Gracie Foundation – a gift from heaven from a woman who left a legacy of love and a little treat of relief to those of us finding our own way through metastatic breast cancer. Nominations for the care package at www.thegraciefoundationinc.org… Read More The Gracie Foundation

The Second Line

Not the first, nor ever last, The Second Line dances ecstatically past. Behind the mourners, they’re not the saints, All uplifted, marching in crowded street’s restraints. Wheeling, turning, lift and fall with porch swings, All souls rise upon the polls and upon night’s owl’s wings. Arriving I walked through stranded streets, Leaving, I grasp a heart… Read More The Second Line

Plan 9 From Inner Space or The Week from the Black Lagoon

I find along side the road I’m currently on in my life with cancer, not waste and detritus, but people. Not hitchhikers, but people waving to me and telling me to keep going and not to stop since its rather unnecessary.… Read More Plan 9 From Inner Space or The Week from the Black Lagoon

Maps and Legends

We all fall down.
The ground grows smaller,
As I pass the Earth,
Becoming her daughter.
Funny to stand today, 
Eclipsing the sun.
My books marked still,
On page one.… Read More Maps and Legends

Why I Love Vintage

https://www.etsy.com/listing/500887842/vintage-rhinestone-encrusted-button-withButtons – it started with buttons. Vintage and old buttons to be precise. Hundreds became thousands. My theory: button mitosis.  The rhinestone 1950s button you see above, one of the latest acquisitions, stands alone as a thought prototype come true by a nameless, faceless designer.  I look at them as though I can save enough […]

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Eclipse

Each life writing a page.
For a bound legacy,
Marked by birth and death.… Read More Eclipse

The Island of the Misfit Toys

And of our own self images, they’re not influenced by much positive representations.  Especially those of us at stage IV. The stage no one wants to know much about at all.  We, the misfits, don’t measure up to Santa’s ultra high standards, and become the toys left behind on Christmas Eve.  Weepy-eyed, we stand shivering from the cold, waving goodbye to the tail end of a sleigh, to Santa Clause’s fat ass, and reindeer tail lights.… Read More The Island of the Misfit Toys

Speaking words of wisdom…

Half a Block Away

There is no greater sorrow than to recall the misery in time we were happy – Dante A belligerent handshake, a reluctantly shared cab. “You know where to let me out?” Your smile, a dagger, Mouth unwrapping secrets, your sleeves full of cards. My stomach twists into a gilded fist, so hard, Throwing a kiss,… Read More Half a Block Away