the process-ing; editing drafts


I wrote this piece nearly 5 years ago. Until now, I feared it being read by anyone but myself. “What would others think? What if they don’t get it? Or like it? What if I’m a shitty writer?”

I’ve outgrown such small, ego-filled thoughts. It’s time to share this piece. There is change in the air and it’s time to come out of my forest of shame and isolation, creatively speaking that is. Some pieces can’t be returned to for years. It takes that time and space to edit a piece objectively and with fresh eyes. Let the wounds heal, form scars and tougher tissue to cut away later.

I’d rather not provide too much context to this piece, and let it hit you where you let it.

What does it say to you? Where in your soul does it resonate? Let me know.


working title; golden handcuffs

“I wonder if it will happen again today,” she thought, “though the food is good when it does.”

Looking down all she could see were people. People with cameras snapping photos of her and the others. “How strange,” she wondered as she closed her eyes and returned to sleep. 

her rumbling stomach woke her and simultaneously incurred an ominous feeling. “It’s about that time,” murmuring under a heavy breath. She saw the young man in the white gown approaching. “Oh bother.”

There was a decision to be made. It could go one of two ways; Be uncooperative and return to an uninterrupted but irksome afternoon of endless flashes of light. Or cooperate and be rewarded.

“No matter what the flashes will disrupt my sleep. And if it’s not today it will be tomorrow. Or the next day. Might as well get it over with.”

The gowned man called for her. Shuffling down she noticed the faces of the others and the surprise that she went so freely. She sauntered toward the opening where the man was waiting. “Here we go.”

She could smell the sweet golden goo already. Her sensory receptors perked up. But at the same time something kept her excitement subdued. There was a feeling she remembered on her skin. A memory of what she would have to endure soon. 

Another was being taken out. Their eyes connected. “What’s different?”

Something small was missing that had been there earlier. It was almost unnoticeable but the absence was there. 

She was given something sweet, picked up and placed somewhere hard and cold. There were people in blue gowns and gloves were waiting in a line. All eyes on her; their collective gaze felt predatory, like she was about to be devoured.

The first blue gown sat next to her smiling. She couldn’t understand the desire of these blue-gowned people to sit with her amongst the ceaseless flashing. 

When she felt gloved hand rub her belly, the sweet food grew bitter. “Oh yeah,” she remembered, “this is what this is.” 

#shortstories #shortstory #theprocess #bloodtexts #letitbleed #writer #writing #writeitout #writingcommunity #drafts #goldenhandcuffs #metoo #timesup #create #write #writingheals


Wild Grief

Death follows some like a shadow…

We feel it’s weight on our heels but without it we’d never feel life and the extremity of joy on the other side.

Grief is an energy to transmute, like all the rest. But if we don’t, death becomes a more than a shadow…

Loosing him at 30 isn’t the hardest thing I’ve had to overcome, accept, deal with, process…but that doesn’t mean I don’t still cry about it. What is the hardest is a challenge based the day bc he’s not here to lend a shoulder to cry on. He was my rock. The one I went to went shit hit the fan. Sometimes it took a while to go to him but I usually did. I regret not going to him more. I regret not making more time for him. I regret the years spent in the my shit while he was slowly wasting away under the weight of everyone else’s burdens. I regret not being there for him more. To hold his hand and lend my shoulder for him to have a rest upon. I regret avoiding the feelings of his disease and his death. I regret letting such trivial things consume his last years.

Now I’m living different. Honoring your life instead of mourning. Allowing for myself to come fruition like he wanted me to. I’m letting myself be and putting myself first. Then others. I’m learning from his mistakes; his lack of knowledge; the things he didn’t have time or know how to feel.

I’m learning how to feel authentically. Without shame or hiding, without drama or fear but with compassion and grace. I’m allowing myself to feel all the things I’ve avoided and letting the grief transmute itself.

Wild Wild West

“It’s not personal. It’s business.”

Lived by this my whole life, never quite understanding the irony. Business is nothing nor personal. It’s based on trust and confidence, loyalty and connection; things you build with those you are personal with.

When any of these are betrayed due to business reasons; when one puts business first then we lose then we lose ourselves…

Greed is a funny emotion. Masquerading in the name of business, greed for money and material possessions. Capitalism pinning man against man, fighting to survive, to put food on the table.

I did everything I was suppose to do but I can’t find my place. It’s a racket out there. When I try to focus on business and be frank, people take it personal…when I’m emotional people say it’s just business…which is it?

Or maybe why can’t it be both?

Wild Dreams

One day we’ll fall asleep together instead of apart, waking still wrapped in each other. Rising before the sun, making warm beverages for two as we both ready for the day.

Apart when the sun is up, together with the moon. Our love looks better in the dark. Coming back to the other when duty is done and rest has been won.

Wild Feelings

Being a woman wild means feeling for your people. Holding space, making space, showing how and sharing feelings for and with others. It means feeling more for those around you.

The Wild Woman is tapped in with her emotions, tuned in with what’s her’s and what’s not. She doesn’t carry these like a burden but as armor. Her sensitivities her protection; her vulnerabilities her power, her strength.

Wild Women roam free; liberating all those they encounter, dropping seeds and sprouts of life wherever they go.

Always wandering…

Never settling…

So Blessed Be the Wild Women

bloody news

It’s hard to watch these days, isn’t it? A long time ago I stopped watching as much “traditional” news and switched a primarily satire only diet. The Daily Show and shows and voices alike led my thinking along with a liberal education. From a young age I developed a healthy level of skepticism when it came to the media.

Now, in these times of crisis and so much unknown, we are turning to media, our phones, the news, politicians, entertainers, local leaders, and of course, each other for information and support during these times. It helps us keep together but it can also promote fear, anxiety, and chaos if the information is bad. It’s hard to find the good these days.

I find the good and a decent amount of infortmation watch Samantha Bee, Stephen Colbert, Seth Meyers, and others like them during these depressing times. I need the laugh and their satirical perspectives to endure the rest that quite simply makes me want to cry.

So what do you do to find the good? How do you find good news and differentiate between fear mongering and telling it straight?

Grind on, my friends ❤

#blog #bloodtexts #news #satire #stephencolbert #thedailyshow #samanthabee #fullfrontal #thelateshow #alateshow #quarantinelife #write #writer #writing #writingcommunity #goodnews #badnews #blogposts

strange times in the 509

Finnegan’s Way,
proof reader, fetcher, barker

Welp, my city, Spokane WA is all but locked down due to covid-19 and being stuck at home all day most days sucks. But this fur ball makes it easier. He helps the process of processing this trauma we as a society are experiencing collectively and my personal, individual traumas I’ve been lugging around in my baggage for years.

He helps me slow down and sort it through, and provides cuddles and kisses when necessary. Being his mom makes my life better in so many ways. Even the mundane things like refilling his water bowl bring me more calm, sense of peace, the subsequent joy and fulfillment is an emotion I never knew possible.

Yes, he digs up the yard sometimes and barks at the birds who won’t play with him in the morning but he learns every day and loves harder than any other being I’ve met in this life so all in all he is a wonderful puppy.

I hope you and yours are doing well during this strange times, and you have a furry companion to keep you company, inspire your work, and remind yourself to give love unconditionally…to yourself, to your pup, and to others. Even if that means staying home and six feet away from each other.

Take care, y’all. Namaste

the sun also rises

“isn’t it pretty to think so?

The last six weeks have been difficult creatively, stifling. I’ve felt blocked from producing and connecting with certain feelings— I’ve avoided pain and old wounds, long festering under bandages to keep hidden until fully healed.

This line from the #thesunalsorises has rattled around my brain for nearly two decades, and everytime it comes up again I find some thing new in the short question. This time it is melancholic and brings a certain sadness because I know some things can only be written, exist only on paper, and not in real life. That some things have to die in order to being about new life.

So here’s to new life! And the sacrifices that had to be made to get there. Skol!

the process; second drafts: blood texts: notes and poems from the underworld



the above and the following poems from a journal I filled over the course of 8 months. with this journal I dedicated myself to writing more poetry, sitting with my feelings, the hard ones to write. during that time I wrote over 30 poems and I wanted to share some here as I go through the rewriting and editing process, and the journey of putting together my very first chap book of poetry. these primes were typed in a Royal quiet deluxe.

so welcome, thank you for being here and joining me while I venture into unfamiliar territory. lets see what happens

#poems #poetry #poetry-community #writer #writing #typewriter#antiquetypewriters #royaltypewriters #royalquietdeluxe #bloodtexts #typedinblood