I fell in love with poetry for the very reason that most people despise it. It's filled with hidden meanings. When I was a teenager it gave me a place to explore the emotions and questions that seemed taboo in my conservative Christian home. That sentiment never left, and most of my poems even to this day are written about deeply personal experiences that I feel I can never share in the light of full disclosure. My Instagram feed has turned into another experience like my poetry. I've been posting lately a lot of relatively cryptic messages comprised of photos I take and lines from various pieces of literature (including my own). If you knew the stories behind them you might cringe or hold a grudge or judge me, but that's okay. A lot of life is happening right now. I'm taking some huge risks. I'm making mistakes. I'm searching for answers. I spent the day at the beach this weekend with a friend. We let the strong current carry us far from our camping spot, ...

Last night I sent a text to a friend telling him that I was ready to re-invent myself. This skin I'm currently wearing is starting to sag and feels a bit uncomfortable. *** If I could sculpt you from the clay of the Earth, shape the curves of your limbs with the palms of my hands... I'd cast your eyes blue and clear as the still waters of the Caribbean on a summer day that see into the depths of life and death. I'd stretch your skin across bones of steel that carry the weight of your dreams too marvelous to rest on fragile shoulders of common men. I'd mold your face with drops of rain delicate enough to sense the tenderness of a lover's lips and joy that courses the veins. You would be my own superhero. A superwoman willing to follow the wind or the waves of the sea that call to you in the whispers that bind hearts and mend fences of souls. Brave enough to love without fear. And seek truth without regret. Bold as the stars in the Andean sky. A fire that leaves its o...

Last Friday, I participated again in the Collaborative Arts Experiment in Fort Myers. This year, the theme was based around community, beauty, and joy. My group decided to create a piece that reflected a universe vs. Earth perspective, and I wrote two poems (in one week) that were read at the beginning and end of the work. The first is simply my reflection of the universe and the wonder I feel when looking at the night sky. The second is my attempt to capture the sense of life I often feel surging within me. You hold in your dark depths the secrets of our first breath wound and wrapped in your swirling orbs of light and dust That stare at me... A million sparks of glitter and gold Singing and cajoling Evolving and revolving... Shining in the eyes of men who dream hope wait for the fate and fortune of foreign travels. *** Oh mystics and dreamers and weavers of words... You carry in your sinew and bone a celebration of the sun of the Earth the dr...

A few months ago, I asked a friend which three famous people from history he would like to meet--you know, in the event that we discover black holes really are portals for time travel. One of the people he mentioned was the South American poet, Pablo Neruda , because he wanted to ask him how he was able to say "te amo" so easily. The conversation that ensued about the ease of which those words roll off our tongues has been stuck in my head ever since. Like anyone else who has walked through the path of divorce, mine has been a path of self-exploration. I've spent a lot of time in the last year and a half exploring my thoughts and feelings on love and marriage. This path has challenged much of what I used to believe and, at the same, brought me new insights into the exhilaration, comfort, and perils of two people trying to forge a piece of their lives together. What I've discovered is that the words "te amo" tend to roll of my tongue fairly easily, but not al...

I always carry one of my Moleskin writing books with me wherever I go. Since I have several, I tend to just grab whichever is nearest to me. This morning I took the black book I carried with me to Peru. The poems scribbled there made me cry, and I thought I'd share a few of them here. Happy Anniversary Ten years ago today I said, "I do." Two words. A promise that only young fools think they can keep for a lifetime. And it rained... so hard that my hair curled and my mascara slid beneath my eyes-- black tracks. And we laughed in front of your father's camera that we filled with memories in black and white. And we didn't know what waited for us behind the veil of years. The secrets hiding in hotel rooms. The animosity lurking in our hidden losses. And how we've changed. I woke this morning in another world and sat by the other ocean. Alone. Strong. Independent. I found my voice in Spanish. And if I could go back Ten years I'd do it again--the same, because i...

Do you see the way the wrinkles crease the corners of my mouth? Did you catch the edges raise into an imperfect, crescent--flesh colored? Can you find the light that sparkles and twinkles as it dances in my eyes? I swallowed a secret. It's mine. I'd like to share it with you, but I can't. I swallowed a secret. It's mine.

I want to be free of mistrust that shackles the heart and judgments that bind the soul. I want to explore and embrace what this life has to give me and follow the path that unfolds. I want to bask in my bliss, in my wonder of life and the beauty that is who I am. I want to be true to the me in the core of my depths that no one seems to understand.

The Nature of Love. They were the truest words I ever spoke. I love you, now and for always not because we are one ...together, but because you're you and I am me. This was our moment. It was beautiful. It is beautiful. It will always be. (c) 2010 Waking Up * Lo siento. No entiendo. Las estrellas estan en el cielo, pero quiero ocultar mi cara de ellos . Las olas bailan en el mar, pero quiero correr antes ellos cogerme. Todo acerca de mi es vida. pero siento un poco de muerte. (c) 2010 *Here's the translation... I'm sorry. I don't understand. The stars are in the sky, but I want to hide my face from them. The waves dance in the sea, but I want to run before they catch me. All around me is life, but I feel a little death.

This is a contemplative morning for me, and there's a lot rumbling around in my head. I'm not at work today because I am finally going in to see the doctor about this itchy skin. I've spent the morning correcting papers and listening to Led Zeppelin. Does it really get any better than that? For the last few days, I've had an idea for a poem floating around in my head. (Monday morning, I scribbled the opening lines on an index card right in the middle of teaching a lesson on the dangers of living in Alaska.) I think it finally came together this morning, and I'll be honest with you. I don't normally have much an emotional reaction to my own writing, but this one brought tears to my eyes. Part of me feels like I haven't done the concept here the justice it deserves, and there's always the chance that I'll elaborate a bit more. For now, though, I need to share this. My kindred, is it enough to know you're part of the world that we'll...

I've been setting in motion the wheels for my transition out of public education and into my true call in life: writing. It's not been a particularly easy (or quick) move for me. In fact, the main reason I decided to start teaching was because I thought that the hours would give me time to write. That was seven years ago. During that time I've done my fair share of editing and freelance work. I've even published a short story and almost finished the manuscript for a trade book. I have notebooks here filled with all sorts of ideas and outlines. The problem is that I don't always believe in my own talent and want everything completely perfect before sharing it with the world. Since the divorce, though, I've found myself oddly comfortable in my own skin. I'm standing up for myself more and have embraced the all important question, "What do YOU want?" The answer has been slowly emerging, rising to the surface of the still waters that run so deep in my ...

Last night I drifted with the stars. I wanted to hear their dark and soulful songs. I wished upon them as morning neared. Their mystery charged my restless spirit. Today I walked along the rails. I want to ride a train to anywhere. I'll follow the tracks where they choose to roam. The trail winds up where it needs to go. Tomorrow I'll wander the desolate shore. I want to see just what unfolds. I'll jump in where I find my peace. The waves will lead to untold possibilities.

A recurring theme in my life right now is how our lives collide at any given moment with the lives of those around us, often in inconvenient times and methods. Promotions can be granted while someone loses a job. A miscarriage can be mourned while a birth is celebrated. Couples break up while weddings are planned. Choices are altered by circumstances within and beyond our control. What amazes me is how often we're all dealing with our own degrees of pain and joy at any given moment. Today I learned that someone very dear to me has been carrying a burden for at least the last 4 years. I'm directly connected to that burden, through no malice on either side. It's just life at work. Our lives collided, leaving both of us feeling pretty bruised and bloody and lost in the silence of the unspeakable. I want to wrap my arms around this person. And cry. And apologize. And mourn the shift in our lives' paths. Perhaps that day will arrive at some point. Until then, I still need to...

Right now, I'm feverishly trying to meet a writing deadline for today. I've known about it all week, but the diversions of life (like a trip to the only pharmacy in the county that will fill my dog's prescription, a successful search for a new computer bag, and an irritated piriformis) have a way of sapping my inspiration. This magazine article is about a fascinating real estate company in Tuscany. In fact, if I had the money, I would buy one of their properties tomorrow just so I could go out for myself and wander the ancient cobblestone streets of Italian villages. And that's just what I'm trying to convey in this article. So far, I have 162 of 1000 words finished. Thinking that some wine might push along the creative process, I opened the closest thing I had to an Italian wine. It's a German auslese: very, very sweet, and it's from a region far closer to Italy than the Argentine wines on my shelf. So here I am molding the words in my head like modeling cl...

I was standing outside in the rain the other day thinking about why I keep a journal. Since I was thirteen, I’ve written rather irregularly in spiral notebooks, hardcover books, the inside of envelopes, and on various scraps of paper. My journals range from essays to poetry, and even some one liners. I thought it might be convenient to scan them all and store them on a USB drive. Well, this isn’t entirely true. I actually was thinking of how much more I would write if I could do so without the fear of someone reading my innermost thoughts and using it as evidence to have me committed to a “facility” for the rest of my life. All this led me to some of the more interesting moments in my life. In my 30 years, I’ve managed to collect a wealth of stories that range from the absurd to the tragic and the brilliant to the insane. I’ve shared several stories with dear friends and a few strangers., but many of these stories are doomed to collect dust in my head. Unless, of course, I go ah...