Knitting Is Better Than Therapy

Prompt- Use the words: actor, glorious, stitch
Knitting is better than therapy
As stitches are created
Knit, purl, yarn over, decrease one
They do not analyze me, force correct answers
In therapy, I am an actor in an office
Yes, I feel guilt
No, I haven’t slipped
Yes, I love myself
No, I haven’t contemplated suicide
But when knitting, I do not dwell
On what is unworthy of contemplation
I obey the pattern or rebel with improvisation
As I speed knit Continental style or English throw and
pick
No platitudes, no critiques
No pressure, no poking at pain till I bleed out
Only two sticks dancing with string
Creating, living, growing
Stitch by stitch, truth by truth
I’m a maker
Of miracles, of masterpieces, of monstrosities
What’s the worst that can happen with wool and
wonder?
A dropped stitch, a lost pattern, incorrect gauge, wonky
seams
I rip back, rewind, add tension to used, wrinkled strings
And start again
A work-in-progress
           
          In through the front door
          Run around the back
          Down through the window
          Off jumps Jack
Glorious fiber,
    Bare my soul to the cashmere gods
          Darn my holes
               Heal with scarves, socks, shawls
                    Warm with sweaters and blankets
                         Spin, ply, dye
                                       Bind off

-Excerpt from The Shorter Things Collection


 

It is all for the bright!

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The Shorter Things Collection

My newest release is an anthology of poems, flash fiction, and short stories I wrote over the last few years that do not fit so comfortably into the Young Adult genre. It’s for everyone, especially those who find it hard to read a whole novel. Sometimes short is all you have time for. I apologize in advance though; just because these pieces are short doesn’t mean they’re all sweet. The genres span from haiku to horror, and many in between. Get your ebook copy today.

I’d like to share with you my favorite poem in the collection, Color In Circles.

I felt bold. Bold. Bold as a box of bright crayons on gray recycled paper.

A rectangular page ripped from a Cinderella coloring book,

That utility box of Crayolas, ten predictable shades

Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, Green, Brown, Orange, Pink, Black, and White

Primary to primal.

A rainbowed Decalogue stains the cheap pages

To color Cinderella in her temporary magical dress

Losing. Losing. Losing her damn glass slipper.

Graffiti without boundaries,

Void of trained aesthetics, haphazard, fearless.

A picture to reflect the stunted artist

Not for public display. The ten shades reveal a blushing testament.

What is to be done with this? This. This rendering by a frantic child?

Paint over it. Disguise the disgrace.

Slather over the mistakes with black ooze and let it dry.

Etch out a design. No, scratch out a warning—

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t waltz with strangers, Prince Charmings, narcissists.

Toss the testament in the trash with the glass slippers.

Abandon it. The mockery, the etched remnant.

Find a fresh page of thick bleached parchment.

New. New. New from a coloring book for grown-ups.

Purchase the jumbo box of crayons—ninety-six shades, nearly one-hundred hues.

Remember. Remember. Remember sitting at the table, one summer in the early‘80s.

“Use circles,” mom instructed, making bold impressions, not feeble scribbles.

Shades of blossoming pinks filled the empty space between lines.

Sunrise-tinged flowers of carnation, salmon, and fuschia.

Take the new page.

Grasp the renewed legacy.

Create. Create. Create again and again and again.

Capture the shades between bold and afraid.

Keep coloring.

Use circles.

There is no end.

 


 

It is all for the bright!

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So, Hero…

“So, hero, are you going to visit?” Nate asks.

Jaycee eyes her purple notebook and winks.

“Of course. I have a story to tell her.”

Excerpt from my short fantasy tale, Tigress. Sign up for my newsletter and read the whole story for free!


 

It is all for the bright!

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Do You Still Believe?

Elizabeth wiped the tears from her face and began quoting,

The days are dark, the ocean surrounds.

             My fate is unseen, my fate is not ground.”

             The Guardian joined her.  

             “For God orders all, I am just a mist.

            Hovering still, waiting for bliss. 

            The dark hides me well, my heart longs for light.

             I live by this creed—it is all for the bright!”

            Olivia smiled, happy her friend still remembered the old poem.

“Ainsling—do you still believe in the red string?”

The Red Knot, Chapter 26, The Recognition

TheRedKnotCOVERkindle


 

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Threats

The other file stared back at him.  Threats.

The file was thick.  It mostly contained empty claims, but every threat to E.C.C.O. was investigated.  The paperwork was ridiculous.  There were a few red-flagged threats—ongoing investigations.  The two biggest threats at present were the Freedom Restoration Movement and the mysterious Guardian.

The Red Knot, PrologueTheRedKnotCOVERkindle


 

It is all for the bright!

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The Vengeful Herd

The vengeful herd closed in on Jack.  He ran as fast as he was able, his lungs burning from the effort.  His hope of escape disappeared when he turned the corner and found himself in a dead-end alley.  Jack fell to his knees.


 

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Dreads And Thing-a-ma-jigs

“This thing-a-ma-jig says it will be close to three hours.  Better get comfortable and put on that hat like I told you earlier or you’re going to have some serious sunburn.”

            T-bone scowled and reluctantly stuffed a fisherman’s hat over his thick head of dreads. 

The Red Knot, Chapter One, The Vision

TheRedKnotCOVERkindle


 

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Paralyzed

 I watch the van pull away. An eager voice from behind me sings, “Can I have your autograph?” I’m about to refuse when I feel a prick in my neck. I collapse into a heap of striped spandex and leather onto the cold sidewalk.

I hear and see everything around me, but I’m paralyzed.

-Tigress


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His Biggest Fans Were Sheep

  “Let me tell you about another loser God used—his name was David.  He was young and scrawny and musical.  In fact, this artsy dude was one of the first true singer/songwriters.  Of course, his biggest fans were sheep.”—eyeroll—“No one thought he was anything special, even his own family.  He was a loser in the world’s eyes.  But God used that loser to slay a giant.  God can use you, too!”

Dude, I don’t even own a slingshot,” I joke under my breath to Kayla.

On The Outward Appearance



It is all for the bright!

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