join us
{it's free}
already a member?
home recent triggers submit trigger news  
It's the little things, it's always been the little things with us.
The way in which you look at me like I might be beautiful.
Beautiful as a wildflower, or some fey creature that has momentarily alighted upon your hand. You hold me with such tenderness, like you can'(more)
How vast is the void?
Questions from our pale blue dot
light the universe.
There are times when it seems that running as fast as you can is only just fast enough

and there is no space for stopping to admire the chill of autumn dressed in it's freshly pressed cider
or the deep inhalation of long awaited rains. (more)
This was meant for 'at home':

Its as if my house is made up
of many levels.
Not connected by beam nor board,
they band together by shadow, and spider's silk. (more)
She took to reading obscure science fiction novels
by candlelight, drinking wine under the covers, and pretending to smoke. Her repertoire  consisted of learning strange accents and using them to enlighten ironic circumstances. Such circumstances included but were not limited to: sneaking up on the cat, under(more)
How wonderful it would be if a portion of my brain continued to color, writing bright spaces into mundanity, even as I apologize for being out of milk. But milk is so boring and lacking in juice for insight. Maybe that's why I've written today. We are familiar now,(more)
oh heck you're handsome
won't you be sweet too my dear?
come on, step right up
At times poetry is like a measure of wine,
giving credence to the dreams of the weary.

As a drunkard lighting the way home,
one wonders if water might not have been best
This post was meant for Notoriously, but ended up under Goodbye:

The topic of choice is unknown
and might as well go on being unknowable
to the impatient. (more)
Awakening, calm and peaceful like.
A single tendril of a storyline clinging to my consciousness. Altered by its flavor, I am curled within a series of  confident thoughts. Familiarity blossoms all the way down, as would the fluid recursions of a Mandelbrot set. And yet, with the alacrity of a(more)
You and your
A blanket,
undermining your fragrance
with every beat.
An anchor, (more)
I am stuck
pulling characters out of a hat.
each missive is an outfit
that is not the right size. (more)
So here we are
kneeling, unspeaking

Like actors upon a stage,
who already know the verdict, (more)
A butterfly takes flight
in a lonely meadow.
It is just before dusk and the sky
is riveted in violet.
Perhaps, this is its last journey.