A writer travels into the depths of their own special world bringing back news of triumph, failure, survival, hope & change.

A place to share the best of my short stories, micro-fiction and poems.

A writer's ode to coffee

My coffee grinder jolts the sleeping beans into mindfulness. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for, ecstatic about being called into service.
Scalding water is a balm to their bitter soul, reborn as elixir, transforming my base metals into gold.
Magic as any unstoppered genie.
A humble clay mug embraces its companionable friend. They become one, both having become their true selves through fire and grinding.
Their raison d’etre is almost complete. My brain synapses ignite, electrons dance around inner space.
New channels form at higher frequencies than before. I am ready to receive news from distant worlds.

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Three old Taoist philosophers

Three old Taoist philosophers as tabbies and calico
Chat on the magnolia branch
Sharing deep thoughts about the
elegance of sunshine and house finches,
the poverty of human spirit,
the art of stalking,
the cleverness of politicians;
Viennese skeptics who branded Marco Polo a fraud,
the North Star,
the scent of books
and a few more of the ten thousand things.

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Like a single hair, it’s one among ten thousand.
What’s so special about that leaf, you ask.
It looks like all the others.
But everything has its own story.

Because of its placement in the world
It saw the morning sun
From a slightly different angle.
Because of its position on the branch
The wind tested its strength
More than the others.
Because it was painted with its own brushstroke,
Its worldview was uniquely colored.

On the way down, the leaf told me its life story,
ecstatic that someone was listening.

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Yesterday’s poet

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I’m told you write poems. 

Ha! That was yesterday.
Today I’m not a poet, but a blind person.
I am a garbage collector of thoughts, none worth sharing.

There’s more to you than that.
There’s evidence of buried treasure.

So you say. Yesterday’s poet is today’s pauper, begging on street corners.
I know desperation will not lead me out of this mess, but…

Take a break. Look to other poets.
You are not alone in your journey.

Thank you for sharing that.
I’ve taken your advice and left myself behind to read those time travelers’ words.

I’m thinking deep thoughts now.

You mock me.

A little. I’m grateful, but growing tired of this conversation.
Besides, I must decipher the clues on this treasure map.


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On Writing

“Writing is a vehicle for traveling to realms of the unexplored, allowing the voyager to go as deeply into the mystery as they dare.”

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Rahma Krambo, Author on Twitter: “Who says #booksarentdangerous? Books have been burned/banned; people thought ideas were dangerous. Major theme in my book, Guardian Cats.”

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