Wednesday, March 9, 2011. No one really wants to connect with me. Unless I like the pain. I only exist in my mind. Wednesday, March 17, 2010.

Poetry in the land of my life. March 1, 2015 in poems. Soft pressure of my boot onto dirt sodden asphalt pulls me towards the earth. The gentle tug bearing me downward to root and grow limbs with leaves. A Black capped chickadee rests momentarily on bare auburn colored boxberry branch. Snow falls again as we all watch March blow in. December 29, 2009 in poems. Shotgun blast shattered window pane. Why would anyone choose to live here? My anti war poem.

Saturday, March 23, 2013. I am feeling much better now. It comes at a critical moment in The Sixth Sense. So the post that I posted prior to this entry is something that I wrote more than 2 years ago. But I am feeling much better now. Time can heal that way. All that happened in a year? Hard to imagine.

A tiny box on the fringe of the internet where words appear. Sunday, December 28, 2014. 8220;This is the best way to spend Christmas. 8221; the man agreed. It made me think about my travel experie.

Sunday, September 5, 2010. Poetry Bus Poem - Check post below for the latest passengers. The Bus doors are still open - anyone who wants to hop on board can just leave a comment and your link will be added to the post below. Work; school; a trip to the shops;. Small town traffic on the coast road.

Poems, stories and rants by writer Julie Buffaloe-Yoder. April 7, 2011 by Julie. Sheds her skin on the path. She rubs her nose over. The moss of fallen logs. Bit by bit, she exposes. In dead pine straw,. Then curl up, unseen,.

Some stray strands of twisted brain waves. Friday, October 14, 2011. As shared at Magpie Tales. It was 2 in the morning. Going in and out of consciousness for the past three hours, hands tied by thick barbed fence wires from across the field, the body slumped and hit the floor face down. Thought he could have me behind bars . Expensive these days, bu.

8220;The crown of literature is poetry. Wednesday, August 6, 2014. This to the sky -. Is no more or less. Wednesday, March 13, 2013. To be close to my mother. The days long and gray. That ran along the river. On top of the hill.

Where Pen is mightier than the sword. Written for my adaptation of the Jackson Pollock chosen by Tess today, for her Mag 290. Among the clouds an angel flies. In swift retreat from stormy skies. Spreads its path; to our delight. This promises that, after rain,. Its beams will bless the land again. So it has been since time began,.

Creating venues for poetry in support of healthy ocean communities. CLIMATE ANXIETY COUNSELING by Kate Schapira. INDISCRETE LEVIATHAN by Jennifer MacKenzie. VISIONS OF by Noelle Kocot.