Sunday #Poetry: Blame Her Not

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Blame Her Not” John W. May CAN I cast blame for what she eats, Or that she strolls where sunlight sleeps; Or blame her that her skin is pale, Whose lips are glist’ning red as ale? Am I to cast accusing stares And judge her not…

A Sense Of Place: Warm Water Cove

Originally posted on Writing In The Night (December 11, 2013) “Ogling ruins is a way of meditating on our own inevitable deaths… A humbling reminder that, yes, it all does return to dust…”  -David Byrne, JOURNAL 3.26.06 There’s a lot to be said for city planning. It started with the ancient Romans, the first civilization…

Sunday #Poetry: Wraith

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Wraith” Edna St. Vincent Millay “THIN Rain, whom are you haunting, That you haunt my door?” -Surely it is not I she’s wanting; Someone living here before- “Nobody’s in the house but me: You may come in if you like and see.” Thin as thread, with…

October, 2017

There’s something about October… Summer is officially over in the Bay Area. The nights are cold, the mornings are crisp. The sun sits differently in the sky. The holidays are fast approaching, and with them, the end of the year. While I enjoy the excuse to let my witchy flag fly, by the time October…

Sunday #Poetry: Ghost in the Land of Skeletons

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Ghost in the Land of Skeletons” Christopher Kennedy If not for flesh’s pretty paint, we’re just a bunch of skeletons, working hard to deny the fact of bones. Teeth remind me that we die. That’s why I never smile, except when looking at a picture of…

Your Best Ever #Halloween Playlist

I have a confession. When I was a kid, we didn’t celebrate Halloween. GASP! HORROR! Trust me, I know. I won’t go into the whys of this; suffice it to say there were no costumes, no candy, no decorations, no creeptastic music. This dearth of spooky spirit lasted until I was old enough to take…

Sunday #Poetry: Three Witches, from Macbeth

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux Three Witches – Macbeth ~ William Shakespeare A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.                 Enter the three Witches. 1 WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.        2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the…

Sunday #Poetry: The Witch

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “The Witch” Mary Elizabeth Coleridge I have walked a great while over the snow, And I am not tall nor strong. My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set, And the way was hard and long. I have wandered over the fruitful earth, But I…

Shades Below Grimoire: Banishing Spells

First published on ParaYourNormal (November 2,2015) **NOTE: Although based on existing spells, the spells in the Shades Below series were created for entertainment only. They are not intended for use in performing actual magic.** In a city like San Francisco, there’s no shortage of things that go bump in the night. In my urban fantasy…

Sunday #Poetry: Smoke

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Smoke” ~ Erica Jong Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. For centuries, the air was full of witches Whistling up chimneys on their spiky brooms cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe, as they flew over rooftops blessing & cursing their kind….

A Sense Of Place: The Columbarium

Originally posted on Urban Fantasy Investigations (October 30, 2015) The stern neoclassical building looked distinctly out of place in the pastel-hued residential neighborhood. It sat in all its somber glory at the end of a small cul-de-sac, surrounded by neatly-trimmed hedges and small, geometric patches of grass. Purple-leaved trees shaded a small parking area just…

Sunday #Poetry: Witch Wife

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Witch-Wife” Edna St. Vincent Millay SHE is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs; In the sun ’tis a woe to me!…