There’s nothing to love
in shadows; everything
they might have been,
it always disappears.



Be with me in misery;
don’t leave me
for the freedom,

believing you’ve no need
of the attention
that I give.


Stay the audience
of my suffering,
this never-ending tragedy
that cannot bear to close.

It’s all the actors know,
and after all this time
how could their patterns change.

The only other way
is for the plays to end.

White Out Challenge

My take on this week’s White Out Challenge, and my first go at doing this. It’s interesting to see what you choose and what you end up with. If you would like to give it a try, click HERE.


This bald year,, frozen, now in February.
This cold day winging over the ugly
Imperfect horizon line,
So often a teeth line of ten buildings.
A red flag flapping
In the wind. An orange curtain is noon.
It all hurts her eyes. This curtain is so bright.
Here is what is noticeably true: sight.
The face that looks back from the side
Of the butter knife.
A torn-bread awkwardness.
The mind makes its daily pilgrimage
Through riff-raff moments. Then,
Back into the caprice case to dream
In a circle, a pony goes round.
The circle’s association: There’s a center
To almost everything but never
Any certainty. Nothing is
More malleable than a moment. We were
Only yesterday breathing in a sea.
Some summer sun
Asked us over and over we went. The sand was hot.
We were only yesterday tender hearted
Waiting. To be something.
A spring. And then someone says, Sit down,
We have a heart for you to forget. A mind to suffer
With. So, experience. So, the circus tent.
You, over there, you be the girl
In red sequins on the front of a card selling love.
You, over there, you, in black satin.
You be the Maiden’s Mister Death.



bald, frozen,
winging over the ugly
horizon line,
teeth flapping
in the wind.
An orange hurts her eyes.
So bright.
What is noticeably
the face
of awkwardness.
The mind makes its daily pilgrimage
in a circle.
any certainty.
A moment yesterday
Sun asked us over.
Hearted waiting
to be something.
Spring says, sit down,
we have a heart for you.
Be the girl,
the Maiden’s Mister Death.


Quote #66

“We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: it’s got to be the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”

I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.”

― Andrew Boyd, Daily Afflictions: The Agony of Being Connected to Everything in the Universe