Poetry: Rainbow Reflections

gazing through bubbles refracted light
I search the curves for the parts of me
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

unrecognizable, untouched I smile despite
treading choppy waters of the darkest sea
gazing through bubbles refracted light

probing tired feelings I write and rewrite
hurts with bleeding fingers, piled debris
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

colorful galaxies explode with meteorite
quickness, explosions blasting truths proxy
gazing through bubbles refracted light

exhaustion whispers hurt meant to incite
rioting wildness, love’s saddest symphonies
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

finger poised to break rainbows requite
I pause, struck by life’s familiar frailty
gazing through bubbles refracted light
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night


This was my attempt at exploring my reoccurring seasons of depression and loneliness through the format of the villanelle. There’s something appealing to me about writing poetry with strict formats—perhaps it’s a false sense of control when I’m feeling so helpless and vulnerable. Let me know what you think of my first attempt at this type of poem and if you are in the dark right now please know you aren’t alone.

Photography: 4th of July

I’ve not felt patriotic in years. After seeing a terrible car accident this morning and reading of yet another mass shooting, my mood is far from celebratory. I decided to photograph my day in an attempt to combat the anger, disappointment, and sadness at fully realizing freedom in America has always been selective. It’s getting harder and harder to cling to the hope things will get better.

Here’s a look at what brings me joy and gives me the energy to keep fighting—my sister’s new puppy, playing with my sweet nephew, dominoes, fresh tomatoes, swimming with my mom and aunt, and sparklers.

Thank you so much for your support.


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

What to see more?

Poetry: Starfish

clinging to rocks with five arms
the starfish thrives under the sea
bounded by thick seaweed forests
and surrounded by free creatures
living complex underwater dramas
and grasping tightly for survival

diving under I hold my own survival 
like a bawling baby tight within strong arms
made tough by fighting external dramas
created through daring the churning sea
of man to see me worthy among creatures;
equal to those hiding within its dark forests

with wide womanly hips, I dance in forests
singing of my own truth, my own survival 
while being told I’m weak among creatures,
unworthy of spinning with wide open arms
spread like wings deep into the sea
of truth you’ve churned into polity dramas

you try and create new elaborate dramas 
within the shadowy, political forests
telling me my body floating in the sea
isn’t worthy of fighting for its own survival;
instead, you must tie my wide-spread arms
behind me like all wild and crazy creatures

for you know better, you zealot savage creatures
bent on pushing single-minded dramas
held in your pure, pious, and holy arms;
while I must run into the dangerous forests
without protection, fighting for survival
in your newly created shark-infested sea

with wide breaststrokes, I swim out to sea
feeling one with the wild salty creatures
who know the sacred truths of survival;
watching breezy seaweed dramas
dance before me in underwater forests,
hugging myself tightly with loving arms

the tempestuous sea hosts maddened dramas 
of all God’s creatures within wavy seaweed forests
filled with starfish arms reaching toward survival

untie my sweet womanly arms as I float in the sea
or dance in forests with its many feral creatures;
let me control the myriad dramas of my own survival


After spending a few days at the ocean I wrote this sestina to process what’s happening to woman’s rights in this country and ready myself to fight back. I’m not interested in debating the issue and any comments attempting to do so will be removed.

Photography: Dillon Beach

I’ve spent the last few days with my writing partner Anna, her daughter Bella, and my daughter Lola at Dillon Beach. While it’s over 100 degrees back home it’s been cool and overcast here. We’ve had several days filled with talking, relaxing, and writing. Considering the state of affairs in the world right now it felt extra special to be together as women near the healing energy of the ocean.

I struggled to photograph the beach in ways I haven’t before and I’m not sure I was very successful. I included a photograph of a fire truck as yesterday we came across a woman who broke her ankle on the hiking trail down to the beach. Anna held her leg and comforted her while the rest of us flagged down the first responders when they arrived. Watching how everyone came together to help this woman was a wonderful example of kindness in a world that feels a bit scary at the moment.

Thank you, as always, for your support of my blog. I hope you have a wonderful day.


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
iPhone13
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Here’s a bonus photo my lovely and talented friend Anna took of me. You can find her incredible artwork and writings at loscotoff.com.

Poetry: Candy in a Dish

I.

hot thighs, stomach rolls
sweaty armor, sweetly eaten
protect hard, hide soft

weary smiles, turn away
deep water, baggy clothes
dream free, life restored

II.

touched without my permission in hot
places where thumping music makes thighs 
jump and sway, alcohol-filled stomach
churns truth until it tumbles, rolls

shadowed memories turn into wispy sweaty
kisses pressed against tightly layered armor
shattering fragile identity, fat words sweetly
whispered with fragrant wolfy breath—eaten

tumbling out dirty doors, stars protect
while Mother Moon watches with hard
kind eyes, stealthily struggling to hide
tears under swelling flesh made soft

fistfuls of candy devoured in weary
attempt to lock in realistic smiles
while broken-hearted I pirouette turn
carefully from danger; take me away

keep marching through tunnels down deep
sacred places boogeymen can’t go; water
too filled with sugary goodies baggy
after baggy blooming like puffy clothes

shaking nightmare voices off, golden dreams
swirl unfocused almost saying I’m free;
running even-breathed penning new life 
while courageous sun promises hope restored


This poem is for others like me still processing old trauma and heartbreak anyway we can. May you find your way toward the healing sun. I hope to meet you there someday.

The format of this poem is one I did before, where each word in the first poem becomes the last line of each stanza in the second. Thank you for reading and supporting my poetry adventures.

Photography: Around the Pond

My photos this week were all taken around the pond at William Land Park in the early evening. It was warm outside and I learned the lotus flowers I wanted to capture only open early in the morning and are closed by mid-afternoon.

I had the intention of returning later in the week to try again, but my son started summer school and life got busy. Perhaps in a few weeks, when school finishes, I’ll have time to return to this beautiful spot.

Although I didn’t get the blooms, I am happy with the photos I was able to capture of the animals living around the pond, especially the dragonflies. Let me know what you think in the comments below and I hope you have a wonderful week.


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

What to see more?

Poetry: Free Mom Hugs

Past

would you have trusted me more
if I’d known about fingertip sparks
and fluttering hearts?

or if I’d really looked at
tiny pencil drawings on matchboxes and
folded paper napkins?

you’d pass notes I didn’t understand—
messages scrawled on scraps of paper
palm to palm

rainbows hung around your pretty neck;
delicate lovely things refracting light into
everything you did

you left without goodbyes—fleeing rejections 
spurred by fevered religious hate disguised
as family love

you drew naked ladies in Paris
seeing worldly wonders dreaming nightly with
fingertips stained black

floating down stone steps in tailored 
suits you charmed everyone with your
soft blue eyes

returning home sick, thick sketchbook under
heavy arms we talked about everything
but the truth

you left without me seeing you
kiss your lovers, pink-skinned blushing
on ornate bridges

or watching you dance under moonlit
skies with flowers tucked into your
fluffy blonde hair

Present

driving nowhere we sing with windows
down, wind blowing tangles into your
fluffy red hair

I sense something brewing behind quiet
lips, fingers fidget with your many
bright silver rings

with a trembling voice, you say
you like girls—scared of rejection
bare legs shake

you’ve known since kindergarten, but it
wasn’t something you wanted to explore
or talk about

honored, I listen to your deeply
held sacred truths; as you discover 
who you are

my old friend breathes words of 
comfort through me helping me ease
your coming out

grabbing soft hands tightly, I squeeze
three times letting you know my
love remains unchanged

balancing stone words we build together
walls to fight against those who
would seek destruction

inked drawings, musical explorations, the Heartstopper
you share everything with me, showing
me the way

crying at pride, past present swirl
promising to do better armed with
free mom hugs

Street Art in Sacramento, CA

In honor of Pride Month, I dedicate this poem to a dear high school friend who died of AIDS and my beautiful daughter who trusts me with her truth. I reference the show “Heartstopper” on Netflix and can’t recommend it enough for its sweet portrayal of love. Happy Pride Month!

Photography: A Day at the Zoo

I’ve been looking at a lot of photographs and find I’m really drawn to photojournalism. I love when a photographer tells a story through their images, capturing a moment in time or the essence of a person or place. I’d like to work on developing my own style of images.

On the road to improvement, I’ll be dedicating the next few weeks to photographing on a theme. This week, my offering is from a recent visit to the Sacramento Zoo. I had a small child with me, so I didn’t have as much time as I’d have liked to stay in one place and capture multiple images. However, it’s all part of the process and I rather enjoyed myself.

Thank you for your support and have a wonderful week.


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

What to see more?

Poetry: The Midnight Grater

unable to move I gasp, turning
tumbling down rabbit holes meant
to not be remembered at dawn

Pulling up behind my darkened house in their 
shiny black El Camino, bass booming—a thunderous
storm descends upon my unconscious fragile form. I
don’t hear their footsteps as they scribble scramble 
through the muddy murky darkness toward sleeping me.

wondrous whispering willows lean in to 
reveal secret truths, sacred words 
hidden behind the cloudy half-lit moon

Steadfast friends, The Sand Man and The Grater
share midnight missions of messy madness. Sneaking in
at night’s exact middle, they come silently ruffling
my soft, warm blankets. Unknowing, I am fully
helpless to the whims of these nighttime lurkers.

when did missing sunshine turn my
insides colors, making a mockery 
melody moment within my comfy covers

They simply divide and conquer, each moving around
my room to deliver their own precise brands 
of nightly justice. The Sand Man sprinkling dream 
dust into closed eyes, invoking silky soft dreams 
of rest, while his counterpart sharpens his claws.

don’t be afraid little ones they 
say as monsters lurk under 
billowing bed sheets with cutting wits

I’ve never seen The Grater’s form, but I’ve 
felt his silver touch as he comes to 
dance with my worries. It seems rather unfair 
he’s allowed access when the doors and windows 
are so carefully locked with shiny brass deadbolts.

nothing blends into something, twist the 
knob, turn the handle, flip 
switch after switch without the keys

He presses his shiny sharp grates into whatever
skin he can reach, slipping under the quilted comforter
held tight by my sweaty fists. The words
come with him—frightening little whispery repetitions singing
songs of my insecurities/fears with feverish unrelenting cruelty.

he’s never coming back to you
you’ll be left alone with
dark silent shadows under creaking floorboards

The Tooth Fairy has seen his lumbering shape
peeking out from the sheets—flashing silver eyes
and sharpened talons. She folds her transparent wings 
tightly together, snatching at long ago lost baby
teeth—forever forgetting her pouch of golden coins.

shivering, shaking, my body fights back
but movements do nothing to
protect openings—internal portals of pain

Heaviness, his tell-tale calling card, will linger 
around me when I finally fully wake from 
the night. Throwing off blankets, I yawn as 
the echoes of his work stick tight on
red, raw skin. Failure feels immediate and imminent.

tomorrow always comes without command or 
permission, blasting hazy new thoughts
refracted backward, inward, outward toward light

Breath deeply. Stretch. I mustn’t stay still for 
the poison will set and I’ll stay in 
bed. Fight to the shower to scrub the 
sticky words off with fragrant suds, washing his 
work down silver drains back to the darkness.

shake awake fingers, dance to life 
toes, and say farewell to 
nightmares until fractured, the moonlight returns

Photography: Shooting Through the Chaos

This week was another busy one. It seems I’m running from one place to the next with barely enough time to write or photograph. It was my nephew’s graduation and we have family visiting from out of town. I’ve gone to bed late and woken up early each day and I still feel behind in everything.

I’m disappointed in all my photos this week. I’m not sure if I’m simply exhausted or I’m at the tipping point where I can see the faults in my work but do not have the skills yet to fix them. I’ve included two photos from the graduation and a few from a visit to the California State Railroad Museum.

Thank you for stopping by and I hope you have a great week.


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA