Relationships, poetry, Arkansas, the environment, life through experiment

Go with the Flow

Go with the Flow

To all ye! Here is a link to an article I wrote for The Idle Class Magazine on hula hooping. A form of physical poetry, hooping is one of the most valuable things in my life. Inside of that circle I am connected, centered, balanced, and sane. How do you feel about or practice flow art? 🙂

The Idle Class is an all arts magazine featuring work and interviews by artists of every genre, in addition to creative articles on local and regional flare.


Day on the Beach

In bed were blankets

White and green as sea and


Rolling wrinkles of yarn and


Salt from my skin soaked deep

Into the mattress

Beyond the window cars roll by

On tires

When you close your eyes you hear

Ocean waves

An Open Letter to Beauty

The following tribute is a letter unleashed by a writing prompt. It feels freeing to let things off your chest, and along the way you might discover or remember something about yourself. Realizations that come from opening up can make letting go even more rewarding. Everyone is beautiful, whether they recognize it or not. Beauty, though a beast, is fragile. Not because it is easily destroyed, but because it can easily destroy us. To help counteract the odds that we will get burned at some point, wholeness and happiness is less about beauty, and much more about perspective.


“Lace Face”

Dearest Beauty,

I cradle you in my hands while lovers hold you in a daze. Like a shallow pool of water I splash you on my face and enjoy the shine, until it dries. Sweet beauty. I strive to preserve and protect you. You are not my child, I am not your mother. When I fail you I am the one who takes it hardest. I lose sight of myself and you are the first to go. Poured down the drain, purged into porcelain, or burned with old poems, I feel your jokes echo from the afterlife. My long, young legs once chased nighttime highs, and you, beauty. It takes looking back at dusty photographs to see you were there all along.

Daddy left when we were little, but not because of us. Maybe momma’s beauty wasn’t enough. I watched her fire grow into a spell that would have faded had he stayed. Time travels on the wind while storms, like all things, come and go. When I was fourteen I dyed my brown hair blonde and taught my best friend how to throw up food. I threw in the towel before even looking in the mirror. I don’t know if I would have seen something worth loving, but I know it was there. Glass shapes the metaphor of an easily shattered reflection we cannot see, unless we cut it out ourselves. I don’t act that way anymore. You, beauty, act enough for the both of us, and I know you are not worth it.

Appearing when least expected, gone when longed for the most. Beauty, the ultimate magician. You are not a burden. If you were, I would have you. The lines on my face are drawn by smiling.

Dear, sweet beauty. On our best days, we laugh together.

Pollen Love Poem


She Moved with Spring


When she left

I was speechless.

Not surprised,


Eyes full of


I could not watch her


The door swung



She said,

Don’t follow.

Faint footsteps


Like falling petals

Of budding flowers,

Bloomed to

Kill me.

Romantic Roulette

When does romance become a mistake? I’m not referring to flowers or holding the door open. In the modern world of dating, things are not always as cut and dry as, “yes, we are in a committed monogamous relationship.” Instead, we’ve got flings, affairs, open relationships, caring lovers who will never settle down. Romance doesn’t have to be an act. Romance can be a description of something you have with someone else. Here’s the beef: if someone outside of the relationship gets hurt, should the romance never have happened? That’s what an old flame said to me after we broke a few hearts before realizing that we weren’t going to be together. I’ll admit, it sounds harsh.

The old saying goes, “it’s better to have love and lost then to never have loved at all.” What an exquisite thought! But what if the love isn’t love? What if it’s a meaningful affair? Or casual sex that turns intimate? Are our feelings of affinity and affection, the very feelings that make us human, something we should deprive ourselves of or blame ourselves for?   

I’m a lover, not a fighter. To help keep the peace, I strive to be very open, always honest, and good ole-fashioned ethical when it comes to my love life, sex life, life, however you want to undress it. The ethics have played a more prominent role since the old flame and the broken hearts. To deny the heart is to refuse flight. Like a bird that will not fly, a heart that rejects love (and lust) is already broken.

Road Trip Poetry


To Funks Grove, Chicago


The wheels
They have
No choice

To Lebanon
Where lesbians lay between longitudinal legs of lust amongst loosened viva la vulva lips and there is no pleasure in coming up for air

To Livingston
Where children lie gagging their dreams to death on skillet streets ravished alive by the feverish heat with no hand to hold

To the Forsee Winery
Where creeps crawl and collaborate behind the footprints of angels boozing their wings away hoping to meet the face of God at the base of the bottle

To Swapping Genitals
Where unzipped zippers zigzag through Fruitful Loins until the rubber ruptures in Sangamon Space

To Smog Skies
Where sea horses splash mermaids in the straps of their strapped on spotlight spanked poles

To Grinarm
Where giants gleam all sun day into purple night splooge wettened by raining spit of the riveting mouth

To East of the Mississippi
Where delays are expected to steam smoke from cylinders aiming to fog the mind body soul windows of Heaven

To Camp Butler National Cemetery
Where dirty demons navigate the thoughts and philosophies of forgotten ghost bums clinging to shreds of dreams between the cracks in their skulls

Where Sherman is more than a mushroom and no longer a skeleton on my porch

To Williamsville
Where Sunflower Carrier Trucks cart money making green but no pollen yellow
Where Nussbaum is Setting New Ideas in Motion and babies drink their first thirst from a nipple

To Elkhart
Where dear are more or less than men with bar code tattoos on their necks driving driving driving passed themselves as I roll away from the nowhere of which I come

Where I spilt black ink on my silk pink tongue screaming my words which tasted like chemicals and cancer

Back in Arkansas when my head was the road and your road was the head
How we gave the car wings

Where we had no patience to chew our frenzy and still
100 miles of skin to swallow



Addiction to Dates

I have recently accepted my addiction to dates. Often, I have had the pleasure of multiple dates a day. The first step was telling the people closest to me what was happening right in front of their faces, but behind closed doors. Admitting my obsession out loud gave me the opportunity to hear myself actually say it, to face the truth. I love eating dates.

Yes, I’m talking about dates, yummy food dates, not dates with women and men (although, those are definitely my actual favorite dates). Dates that let you rip their skin right off the bone, or the pit, and salivate over the sweet thickness and taste as icing on cake, with the texture of a fat, tender raisin.  

Considering how many dates I’ve consumed instead of eating an actual lunch, they must be my favorite fruit. There’s no other explanation for my joyful, not to mention delicious, exposure to a plate of dates, other than they must have sneaked passed apples and become my new favorite, or I’m simply addicted. 

So, to sort of cleanse myself from this addiction I decided to turn it into something productive. I looked online for gluten-free and vegan recipes (my roommate’s gluten-free, I’m vegan) that involve dates. I instantly found a recipe for Vegan, Paleo, Date Energy Balls. Score!

Dates come heavily loaded with vitamins, minerals, and fiber, and contain calcium, iron, potassium, magnesium, and other bad-ass good-health essentials. Instead of looking hott for your date, look hott by eating a date–dates are great for muscle development. Mainly, dates provide relief from certain health issues, like constipation, intestinal disorders, sexual dysfunction, heart problems, anemia, diarrhea, abdominal cancer, and list goes on. Did I mention they’re yummy as sin?

I made these today. Even if you’re not in love with dates to the moon and back like I am, you can still make this tasty dream a reality.

Here is the Detoxinista’s recipe for Date Energy Balls:

Prep time:  15 mins
Total time:  15 mins
Serves: 24 (depending on size)
A quick and easy treat, perfect for snacking!
  • 2 cups walnuts, or other nut/seed of choice
  • 1 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
  • 2 cups soft Medjool dates, pitted
  • 2 tablespoons coconut oil
  • 1 teaspoon sea salt
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  1. In a large food processor fitted with an “S” blade, process the walnuts and coconut until crumbly. Add in the dates, coconut oil, vanilla and sea salt and process again until a sticky, uniform batter is formed.
  2. Scoop the dough by heaping tablespoons, then roll between your hands to form balls. Arrange them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, then place in the freezer to set for at least an hour before serving. Store the balls in a sealed container in the fridge for up to a week, or in the freezer for a longer shelf life.
  3. For a gourmet-looking truffle, you could also roll them in shredded coconut or cocoa powder before chilling (didn’t do this myself, but they still taste as great as they look)!


Well, there ya go universe. I hope now that I’ve faced my delicious demons (because too much of anything can be a bad thing), I can move on and start to exercise dating like a normal person. That I assume is moderately, but still with the same intensely beautiful craving for the next great mouthful.

As for my actual human dates, they are all very nice people. I am excited to share with them something I have made. I hope they like my balls.