Inkwell Spotlight: Bluebird

‘Neath a mound of rock the bluebird sings   No ‘mount of pain nor fear can quell   the hymn that rings from the bluebird’s...

Peace in Reality

The wood scrapes my skin And I know who I am.   The cold burns my lungs And I know where I am.   When   Thoughts are like poison And The avalanche...

Grey

It’s the color of the sky where I first met you, That cloudy night  in the city with  string  lights.    It’s the color of the Arch I stood...

Jane’s Not-So-Charasmatic Side

“When you try a new dish for the first time, and your friend asks you if you like it; often times you will pause, crinkle your brow in thought, and reply: ‘I’m trying to decide if I like it or not.’...