Guitar String

Only moments seemed to pass

since I was torn from plastic home.

You stretched me out, tied me down

pulled me thin, until I sang.

My moments were your weeks

I practiced just like you.

Though I tried

flexibility became elusive—

—I snapped.

Breaking free of my binding

I lashed out.

Now coiled in the trash

five fellows and I buried

with broken song.

I see you

rip apart

fresh plastic

pull from naive safety

your next victim.

Psyche’s Lament

Great odes he sang her at the fall of night

Upon his form he bid her “do not look”

Torment at sisters’ hands ends love in fright

Too trusting of her will—Eros mistook

With Aphrodite’s game now revealed

Psyche’s apology Eros would not brook

Cast from his company, her fate sealed

Doomed ever to walk the earth alone

His love from her forever concealed

Fallen Giant

immortalized in a glowing pyre

embers whisper


heat breaches a pocket of moisture

mourning cries hiss 

on columns of steam


winter fire

guarded by andiron soldiers

stone and steel cell

forced to endure the slow demise


in life

tall and proud

strength against seasons

solid against storms

memories etched into the intricate puzzle

of skin


in death

limbs stretch limp 

over frozen earth

vital evidence

wastes into crisp corpses


ghosts stand vigil

charred bones give 

heat and light


Sunlight disturbs sleeping eyes

Opened by alarm clock’s crow

Resting muscles called to rise

Move unwilling, sluggish, slow


Hunger wakes the belly next

With memory of night’s fasting

Dream thoughts, without sleep, are vexed

Nighttime visions—never lasting

A Few Haiku


Hidden crevasses

Secret journeys of water

Split rock into shards

Spring is Coming

sunrise in pink sky

ebbing frost on dormant grass

a winter morning

December Dreams

Spring-scented hay weed

bees buzz nectar-filled blossoms

warm visions are dreams


aeolian strength

carries broken sediment

time allied with age


twilit melody

fireflies create softer moods

lulled by sweet nocturnes

Persephone Acquiesced

So swift is summer season laid to rest

As August heat browns the fronds of deer fern

On cue, soft green to crimson colors crest


Golden moon risen low, a signal of harvest

That which begun, now taken in return

So swift is summer season laid to rest


Light faded, Persephone acquiesced

Her absence, Demeter’s ancient tears spurn

On cue, soft green to crimson colors crest


Frost, the unwelcome early-morning guest

Contrasting oak leaves’ hue of deep auburn

So swift is summer season laid to rest


Final descent thus ends the mortal quest

From lively pursuits, nature does adjourn

On cue, soft green to crimson colors crest


For then the season’s duties are addressed

Though beneath ivory coat we may yearn

So swift is summer season laid to rest

On cue, soft green to crimson colors crest

This poem is a villanelle, which utilizes a prescribed rhyme scheme, as well as refrain repetition. It also imposes a structure. This was a difficult, yet fun one to write. I wrote it a few years ago and workshopped it with the Shoreline Cluster of Poets.

WattPad and FanStory

I’m new to using both of these sites that I’ve been meaning to use for a really long time. What can I say? Other things had to happen first. But I want to share with you that I’m now active on both.



This is where I’ll post serial fiction. Right now, I’m working on Pathogen, a story I’ve been meaning to write and share for a long time. While my main fiction focus is on historical literary works, what I post on WattPad will be just for fun, for us to enjoy together. Because of that, I’m sorry to say–I’ll only be posting about 1,000 words or so each month.

Even with that pace, we can unfold stories there together, writer and readers. I just published this month’s section, which I originally wrote years ago as part of my MA program–but I wanted to give it a once over before publishing it and now I finally had the opportunity. Look for the story to continue next month!

Start reading Pathogen today.


This is where I’ll post short fiction and poetry. My main goal here, in addition to connecting with other writers, is to participate in contests. I started posting yesterday, and FanStory only allows me to post two things each day, so there are only four right now. But here’s what you can read if you head over there today:

  • “Dept. of Reformation,” a pastiche of Jenny Offil’s book, Dept. of Speculation
  • “The Coach,” a short story told only in dialogue, no dialogue tags or quotation marks.
  • “In Memoriam J.G.M.,” a pastiche of Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “In Memoriam A.H.H.”
  • “Land of the Gods,” a poem I wrote after the earthquake, tidal wave, and nuclear meltdown in Japan

Update: After a few days of use, I’ve decided not to participate on FanStory. I’ve removed the above listed posts and I will share them here next week, along with others I’d posted to that site. 


I welcome feedback on both of these sites, so if you’re a member, please feel free to share your thoughts on these and any other pieces I share. Happy reading!