storm’s eye entrusted
within your palm,
glowing fury extends,
momentarily calm

closing space,
meeting trepidous skin,
lightning flashing,
gooseflesh begins

circling orbs,
as breathing catches,
creating peaks,
heat stinging like matches

slowly and deliberately,
traveling lower,
crackling and buzzing,
gaining power

or maybe that was you,
the eye of the storm,
shooting streams of light
against my form

finally reaching
my pinnacle of need,
with back-arching, sheet-twisting, lip-biting greed

my body awake,
every molecule alive,
thrumming and humming
in overdrive

then you touch me,
pure energy on skin,
and I liquefy
into a thunderous din

Photo is mine


sleepy eyes wake to salmon hue
sneaking between the window shades

inviting feet to follow, out
to savor what the gods have made

billowing cotton stretches the sky
as I breathe in the chilly air

and little paws dance on frosty grass
reluctant to leave his lair

warmth radiates in steamy wafts
from my favorite Black Dog mug

filled with the best pour-over java
made for me, the perfect hug

thinking pad and clean white sheets
lay before me, calling me home 

I sink to inky depths, welcomed
direction completely unknown 

Photos are mine. Good morning!

Macro Shine

M recently brought home this fantastic little macroscope for us to play with. It’s unbelievable what an iPhone camera can pick up looking through it, especially when the sun is shining brightly!

My eye, reflecting the brilliant sky.


Head of a screw in wood.

Busy ant…look closely, and you can see the pollen on his exoskeleton.

Photos belong to us. 


upon my skin
are memories, 
dots and lines, 
external, set free

beneath the color
shapes are alive,
moments in time
destined to thrive 

adorned in spirit
by a needle and gun,
honored in art,
every one

while unmarked flesh begs
and memories yearn,
obsessively multiplying,
awaiting a turn

-image is my own, shared in response to the daily photo prompt fun, and the daily prompt, obsessed



She wanted things
That sometimes made her blush

She daydreamt of things
That maybe she should not

She craved things
That many would never consider

She’d tasted things
Her senses could never forget

She was awake, alive 
And she wanted so much more

Lucky for her, there was no thing
He didn’t also want

And many things he craved and executed 
Which surprised the hell out of her 

There was no place they wouldn’t go