Lately I’ve been “nesting.”

Chasing serotonin and conviction- reclaiming my own curtilage.

And yet, entertaining;

Fellini-esque fantasies.

While balancing the romantic…

with the absurd.

Still, fantasies indeed are dangerous things.


when one feels unchallenged or complacent…

It’s easy to believe that things mean more-

Connections or kismet or fated-

too often just a novel distraction

They would soon grow bored of…

He gave her his heart,

she gave him a pen.

Is it ever real?

Too often oxytocin fueled.

And hypervigilance gives way

To resolute avoidance and/or

The altruistic conundrum-

there is no unselfish deed…

And like she said, “perhaps…”

I’ve already had my chance for that type of happiness.

Nonetheless, a growth mindset.

Endeavor to be present.

Stay the course.

Self actualize myself.

Alone is not so bad.

Lonely is much worse.

Photo from:

Wandering Stars

Wandering Stars

Few can see eternity while standing in humble awe,

Under an illuminated galaxy.

Stargazers over lifetimes,

Recognizing kindred spirits whilst acknowledging divergent paths…

Hopeless romantics, becoming fewer and farther between…

Stifled by noise and light pollution;

Subconsciously choosing to experience the taste of duty-

An assumption of desire to participate in the conditioned path.

Following breadcrumbs to the witch’s sanctum;

Below the vastness of time…

Like a homing beacon- they await a conjunction in a retrograde.

Guided only by energy and the moon;

Moths drawn to the undying light-

Second star to the right, and straight on til morning.



It’s funny

“The shift”

The shift from thinking anyone older

Just looked like an old person.

You see pictures of them young..

Can see it if you look for it-

But as you get get older-

Know more people, longer, older…

Should start with our family-

some fairy glamour prevents it.

It’s when you see someone age,

Someone you’ve known; intimately-

their younger selves-

And perhaps- you do not see again

until you are both- old…older.

*that’s the shift.

Unfamiliar briefly-

Then you see them.

Not them with wrinkles, more skin, less hair…

but just…


In a worn vehicle…

“There you are Peter!”

Now- you’ve leveled up.

At the shift.



And it comes to pass,

With time and understanding-

The “reconciliation”

Of cause, and effect;

Actions… reactions.

The interplay…

The neuropathways.

And you’re standing alone-

In your room

By yourself



Catching your reflections-

Just fleetingly seen-


Then you begin to wonder.

Ponder why you never noticed-

Why you never could.

Until right now.



Maybe it’s my Aquarius-Pisces cusp

But… I am a fickle bitch. 

I want my cake and to eat it too- 

But only when I order it

And have it delivered

To my door. 

I love being alone

Resent a constant presence

Reductively- I’m an Introvert playing house 

With myself- I wanna be mama

I wanna be daddy

I wanna be cool aunt Jackie 

Dependent on no one


And still…

I hate playing house 

I don’t wanna be home

I want to travel 



All the things others have already done

I live it through word

See it on film

Feel it in song

Saved and trapped in my own mind

And so it goes- 

Filling in the grooves

Forty years worth of trail

Diverting energy into other paths

Finding comfort…

And yet- 

Still aching for the familiar 

Just like any addiction

Trying to recognize triggers

Slippery slopes

Of thoughts 

And experience

Both imagined and endured-

Blowing up my siblings’ phones

To discuss a season’s tears

Lament each other’s losses

Never sharing joy

Leaning towards each other 

Each other’s external hard drives 

Fact checking my memories

Offering observed insight 

Spoiler alerts. 

I hate the unknowing. 

I Google you.

I Google me.

I Google what season do they die?

I like to test myself


challenges to survive;

Patterns to predict;

Chances to trust myself

And fail

But in ways most cannot see. 

It’s funny to me.

All things I want(ed) to be-

A singer

A plumber

A poet 

A mom

A lawyer

A wife

A woman

An archaeologist 

A detective…

And here I am. 

Alone- but not really. 


Mercurially Me.



I’m still waiting to not miss you- 

It’s been months since you’ve been gone

(…Maybe even years)

I don’t miss the days of silence- 

It’s so quiet and still, less alone

(… Much less frequent tears)

You’re still in nearly all my dreams-

You’ve become some sort of archetype

(… Mostly for my fears)

You cross my mind I feel gut punched- 

You affect me still in this way

(… Memories trigger gears)

I haven’t even had a kiss-

I try to put myself out there

(…  Move away when it nears)

Did I dream or did I wake- 

Daily wake up in a foggy panic

(…  Mad at me when it clears)

And yet- I’m waiting to not miss you-



There’s a ghost in my house; 

But I think I haunt myself.

I wake up with my hand on a pillow-

And for a moment, it’s your back.

I hear you say my name

When I’m half asleep.

But then I remember you’re not here…

Because I asked you to go

And you went…

Because you love me.

Everything out here has changed…

But everything inside me is the same.

A problem always takes two-

Mayhapst the catalyst wasn’t you. 

Perhaps it’s me that should go.