Sensual Kitchen

Squirming among the grains of paradise,
     lost in the mystical feeling
     of a soft blanch, just enough to
     feel the pulpy softness of breast.

Sautéing the flesh in the rarest
     of saffron, colored in red
     and the gold of turmeric, 
     rich in thoughts and desires.

A spiritual sensation, 
     a sensual kitchen, 
     where heat of anise on fire, 
     flambeed with grains of alcohol, 
burning within,
bursting out
     of the depths of her soul.

Warrior’s Soul

Waking to a dog barking,
   mother calling her name,
      sounds of air whizzing by.

Lost in a world of conflict,
   father gone to his grave,
      younger brother hiding in the crawlspace.

A pang pulls at her stomach,
   dry lips reach for the sky,
      tears as her mother looks her way.

Safety is nothing to a girl
   who is already starving,
      already ill from the war filled waters.

One day she'll leave her home,
   as she stands holding her father's rifle,
      a warrior's soul forced upon her.


~ Written in memory of my Red Cross service in Kosovo, 1999-2000

Daughters of Time

Stones gathered on chiseled limestone
     counting souls who have gone before me.
Coins on headstones, flags on tall poles,
     but not so tall as the mighty sycamores.

The cool brisk air broken by a warm 
     cup of tea to sip from.
Pouch of lavender takes me back in time
     to wood floors, dirt floors, glass bottle windows.

I look out on the valley, low water
     as the land suffers from drought.
Crying to Mother Earth to bring the rains,
     to color the leaves of autumn.

Sisters gathered in purpose of words,
     infinite love with cosmic relations
     as we, the daughters of time
     bring forth the future of the stars.


Written while sitting on the Blacksmith Cabin's porch swing during an Indiana University, Center for Rural Engagement, session for girls and women of all ages with author and professor Catherine Bowman.

Tattered Thought

Sinking lower in disguise,
Lost to simple navigation of life,
     unhurried absence
     from des soirées, grandes fêtes.

Excuses bound on escaping canary
Flying from clouds of doubt,
     torn wing, tattered thought
     away from billowing fantasies.

Mind's eye driven to ledge
As butterflies flitter inside,
I call them back,
     away, come back,
The future I must decide.


Indiana University Exhibit

The opening date is set! The exhibit will be at the Gayle Karch Cook Center for Public Arts and Humanities, Indiana University, Bloomington, Maxwell Hall, beginning September 22nd, and will feature a variety of artists and media formats. 

I'll be exhibiting one of my historical fiction poems written at Beck's Grist Mill, an Indiana landmark in Washington County, and listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Some of my photography will also be displayed.

More info as it arrives, but add this stop to your calendar! The exhibit will only run for one month!