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I’ve been waiting for spring I walked by a small cluster of unknown plants They caught my eye, drew me in My response is always to take a picture, think…

I am not white. The undersides of my arms expose blue veins. The depth of my wrinkles hold darkened time. In summer, my skin turns a honey almond, with freckles…

Time is short these days now that I am in grad school full time, teaching, and being a mom to my four wonderful kids. When a school assignment rolls around…

The end of another long week. Friday afternoon. We curl up in bed. She wants to draw with the new pastels I brought home and then he climbs in to…

As I draw in, she wraps her fire cape around my bare shoulder made of protruding bones and lies. I stutter to ask the occasional unanswerable “why” as I watch…

I drive by these 2 trees everyday. They are so close together, one is alive but the other is dead. Who can say why. This image was taken with some…

The mountain calls back To dare the timber rattlers Light dances on graves ————- A note: The images were taken at Hanging Rock State Park in Danbury, N.C. with Tungsten…

Grappling arms in the harkened underbrush threaten tyranny of a patrolled tightness sometime in the Now. I hear Her battle cry beckon from the borderlands, while sobbing fulfills the overthrown.…

So there’s a bunch of talk in the Pages and Paint online workshop I’m taking part in on inspiration. What is it? Where does it come from? And how can…