Monthly Archives: April 2014

Sheet Music Collages

I’ve been keeping myself distracted lately making these. No idea what I’ll do with them, except give them away.  All of them feature sheet music from the very early 1900s (possibly earlier in a couple instances).  What do you think?

Con Amore Clef Heart Collage

Face to Face Collage

Forever Love Forever Collage

How Sweet The Name Jesus Collage

My Body


Cute toes, when the nails are painted well,
Ticklish feet that sometimes smell,
Swollen ankles that cause some hell,
Calves larger than they should be,
Thighs a little jiggly,
Hips from here to there,
Tummy to spare,
Breasts a little too small,
And getting ready to fall,
Back with a little meat,
A butt that’s neat.

Finally aware that there
Is gorgeous red hair
Sparkling blue eyes
And a smile,
Oh that smile!

Pink glossy lips
Along with a sway of the hips
Make you swoon
Till the light of the moon
Goes away
Bringing with it the light of day.


Oh, to be back in 2003, when I actually liked my body a little bit.

Where’s Christmas?


Lights dance all down the street,
But in my house there’s no tree.
No bright Christmas cheer
Doesn’t seem the right time of year.

If Santa were to come see me
He might wonder where he
Went wrong with this Brown,
Not full of joy, all covered in frowns.

Sugar plums don’t dance in
My head this year. Again
No stockings are hung for each other,
Mom, dad, and brother.

Christmas isn’t really about
Presents anyhow.
Jesus was born this day
For this we celebrate.

Smiles again fill my face
For Christmas is in this place
I call home. Just takes
A little faith to enjoy the holiday.

I Don’t Belong Here


I don’t belong here.

I am standing in the lobby of some austere corporate edifice, and there is a pretty girl next to me; she loves me, but my attention is drawn to the woman walking into the lobby; Laura Green, a champion of obsolete technology. Today, she will broadcast a radio show with antiquated equipment, and play vinyl records on an old turntable. She is broadcasting from the park outside this building, where the corporate herds eat hasty lunches and strain to hear their cell phones.

I go to help Laura, my unknown lady friend annoyed and jealous; this amuses me, because I know that no one is jealous of me. As I help Laura set up the antiquated equipment, we hear it, borne on a wind that was not there a second ago. A siren, low and urgent, at whose keen we all turn our heads, even the cell-phone drones. A girl screams, a second before we see the cloud; small, white, and, in any other context, harmless. I know this is what I have dreaded all my life, yet I have no idea what it is.

The cloud hovers, oblivious to our fear. As the siren winds down, I hear a voice, as if in my head, confirming my dread: There is no cure, evacuate immediately, there is no cure. Laura and the girl are gone, and cell phones are crashing to the ground; I am alone, and the cloud is growing. I look back at the building, and people are boiling out; executives, secretaries, tourists in mismatched clothes. They are all running away, over rails, climbing stairs that I hadn’t known were there. I start running for the stairs, jumping benches on the way, when I stumble to the ground. Ahead of me, the girl is still screaming, and I know what is behind me…

I awake on the plane with a start, my head whipping back and forth as it takes a few seconds to realize I was dreaming. My breath returns, and I am surprised to be alive. My disorientation alarms the woman next to me; she is elderly, and smells of licorice. She asks if I’m well. I murmur something vague, and get up to use the restroom. In the restroom, I splash water on my face, and as I reach for a paper towel, I notice the wall panel is out of place behind the toilet. I reach down, out of curiosity, and the panel falls away at my touch. Behind the wall is a space just large enough for a man to crawl into, and it extends downward. I crawl into the space and follow it downwards. I only go about 12 feet or so when the space opens up and I land on a half-filled luggage rack. I am in the baggage compartment, and I can see ahead a canvas partition, in which a long slit has been cut.

I walk over to the partition, and peek through the slit. I see a man crouched behind some boxes, he has his head turned away from me, but he will turn it this way soon. I back away from the slit and look for something to hide behind. Before I can go a step he is through the slit and pulls a gun on me. I laugh at him, because I know he will not harm me. I trust him, and although I have never met him before, I know him for a close friend. I smile and ask why he has the gun, since we know he will not shoot. He points the gun to my belly, and his eyes lock onto mine. He has no pupils, and I can sense eternity in the blackness of his eyes as he fires the gun. I never feel the bullet, and the world closes in on itself, shrinking to a pinprick of white light, like when you would turn off an old television set. I know I am dreaming, and that now I am dead, because I know that if you die in your dream…


Continue to Share Your Heart…

Continue to Share Your Heart

I love Amy Poehler.  Even more now.  Keep sharing your hearts with the universe, even when it hurts, even when it’s scary, even if it’s broken. <3

Take it All


You say that life doesn’t
Revolve around me, but me is
All I’ve got, so please don’t go taking
That away too.

Privacy No More


I feel violated, my privacy intruded upon.
Never had I imagined our relationship
would come to this point.
How did you become so jealous,
so worried about my faithfulness?
It feels like you watch my every move
your breath on my neck and your
eyes peering over my shoulder as I
go through the motions of life.
I can’t even express my feelings to
my best friend without worrying
you might find out.
You don’t need to know everything
that happens in my brain,
so don’t check up on me, looking
through my personal belongings
exploring my personal thoughts
coming to your own conclusions
about my actions without consulting me
first. You don’t have the right to
Make me feel this way about you
I don’t want to feel this way about
you, but I’ve been left no other choice.


I wish I could say this was about guy troubles back in 2002, but like most of my writing, it’s about her. It really brings to light how dysfunctional our relationship was – she was a jealous bitch and thought I was betraying her at every turn. I was well behaved, smart, did well in school, did everything asked of me (more than any daughter ever should have been asked to do) and yet I still had no measure of privacy. It makes me sick to think about now.

I’m fairly certain it was around this time that I was finally realizing how bad things were at home; how powerless I was. But let’s be honest, I had been powerless my entire life. I just started connecting the dots at this point. Unfortunately, it took another decade and a psychotic break for the facade I had created in my young survival mode to come crashing down around me.