Hello everyone,
For those of you who have been following this blog and website since it’s inception, you know that I post a lot of my digital art and poetry here. Well, I decided it was finally time to create a book of both my poetry and artwork from the last decade. I’ve been working on this more in secret for the past three months or so, though if you follow me on facebook (where I do most of my posting) you’ve heard me hint about it. So today, I am not only revealing the cover, but the preorder link. Now, keep in mind, if you want a paperback copy of this, you will have to wait till release day, because unfortunately, at the moment, Amazon won’t allow paperback preorders. But the ebook preorder is live and you can find the link here.
A Luminous Liminality will be released on September 17th, 2022. Some of the poems (but certainly not all) are available on the Poetry page on this website. You can check them out for some samples.
photography
Ache in the Bones.

It’s been quite a while since I did any poetry or artwork, so, here’s some new stuff. I call this one Ache in the Bones
Ache in the Bones
Aching Bones
My bones ache,
And it’s something I can barely take.
But I look at myself and try to break from the heartaches and earthquakes of those woes and worries that I just can’t seem to shake.
Do I enjoy them?
Do I employ my messes to solve my problems and downplay the stresses?
Or do I conjure up more problems and conundrums, unsolvable riddles and endless questions
Do I ignore the suggestions?
See?
I see.
I see what I do,
I know what I’ve been through and am starting to understand the things that I do
To increase my own suffering and the karma that I accrue
Programmed
It’s the underlying program at work,
It’s the ways that I was a jerk,
Or the way that I lurked around my own blindspots to ignore to rot
Most of my life I followed the toxic attitudes I was taught,
Never letting myself see the light,
Instead, I fight
I fight for the right to bury my head in the sand, rather than expand
My mind, or maybe find the things that I hide behind
You just gotta move forward?
What’s forward is back,
How can you choose to move forward when you’re stuck on the wrong track?
You gotta attack those toxic flashbacks if you wanna bounce back from the blackest night
If you ever want to be alright
What happened to me wasn’t my fault
But that doesn’t mean I have to keep pouring salt, on the wounds from the assault
If I just live in default mode and lock it in a vault, how can I ever erode the pain or decode this heavy load?
Healing’s a lot of guesswork,
Like I’m not even supposed to be here, I’m just an innocent clerk
But That’s my party pity, my last attempt being witty
Before I deal with the pain…
But trauma? Trauma is like an oncoming train, and you can’t refrain from standing on the tracks that live deep inside your brain
But it’s just a game, just some lame excuse to frame my history in an event to pretend like some of it was a mystery
Things happen to us.
But we happen to others too.
Recovery from trauma might make you feel pretty blue, maybe you can barely stand the things you went through or the debts you accrued
But that doesn’t mean I can take it out on others,
Others are my sisters and brothers
On the path
And can you do the math? If we keep walking this path, we’ll face the wrath
Of our actions, of our overreactions and we will find ourselves making factions, rather than taking the course that leads to the best actions for all beings
I’m far from perfect, but I’m practicing seeing,
Practicing just being,
To be a better human being.
The Quality of Autumn
The Quality of Autumn

Pangs of the heart come as the days shorten with a kind of softening bitterness.
What will this end bring?
What will any end bring?
Something new?
For me?
I suspect more of the same.
Wheels upon wheels of an endless autumn, not one step further.
Where is my spring? Has she been lost in the depths of the winter?
A wandering widow who never again finds home?
I lay in the browning grass.
I feel the crunch of leaves in my palms.
I squeeze to feel the assemblage of their wreckage.
Bittersweet memories.
Sleepless nights.
I open my palm.
I am the fragments of leaves scattered on the backs of the wintering winds.
Naked.
Content (New Artwork)
Some early morning artwork.

