Inner Child

Running my fingers over the scars, I close my eyes.

Born Crazy: A Video Poem

"You're crazy." How often have you heard this phrase thrown around, either flippantly, in jest or to victim blame someone who has overcome or is recovering from abuse? I heard this often as a post-cult teenager and well into my adult years. While I was actually dealing with the behavioral aftermath of being an extremely … Continue reading Born Crazy: A Video Poem


After cult life I Know what it's like Run across the road In the dark night Steal vegetables From the neighboring farm And it harm none Mama formed the mission Holding her Bible A glory soaked misfit Cold seeped doorways On an old trailer In lot Number seven Piling up blankets Summers fanning heat There … Continue reading Poverty