The world is on fire.
The ashes is spreading.
We are coughing the smoke.
…and I want to have coffee with you.
Dead bodies piled up.
Their names never known.
Their faces are shadows.
…and I yearn for a coffee with you.
There is poison in the air.
In your breath.
In my mouth.
… but please have a coffee with me.
Have a coffee with me,
and share joy on these lips,
for a moment of relief
in a dying world.
I wish I’d told you all my stories.
I want to tell you all my storiesIt’s not that they would changeIt’s just that I would likeTo see themFormA new expressionOn your face I need to tell you all my storiesI am not sureIf they makeSenseThe way I thoughtThey do. I will tell you all my storiesThey frighten meI’m sure you won’t endureI see…
Dealing with darkness in writing
This spring afternoon is glowing pink and tastes like strong tea. It feels much too familiar, and I begin to open up.I feel far away from myself as I start to talk, to babble on about my novel. About all the things I’ve been reading about in the past 5 years. About the 17th century,…
Radical witching novel rewrites at 4 AM!
I wore the same night dress my witch used to wear to get drunk on my windowsill, when I suddenly had an idea at 4 AM. Great ideas always happen at 4 AM, remember? This one however, kept me awake for at least a week, debating it back and forth. At some point my witch…
Mistress witch writes 