Heartache

The gray textured mountain ranges and ravines, of our Sunday morning bedspread, envelop my sick toddler.   She whimpers in her light sleep, her binky quietly chirping, as she suckles it.   My pajama top is clutched, in her pudgy little hand, to ensure that I must remain at her side.   In the kitchen,...

Maine

The cold granite stones beneath our feet made us taller, Elevating us above the ordinary cobblestones of Post Office Park, The moon shinning over our pre-pubescent crew of misfits. One step closer to the sky.   It was on nights such as these that I felt my first creative pangs. They began as fleeting impressions...