Friday, July 26, 2013


In trying to find my so called Zentangle "style," I came across a paradigm that I find comfortable and fun. It helps motivate me to do more and I enjoy the results much more than my other Zentangle endeavors. So I gave it a name. A Tangleburst - a burst of tangles coming from one central large element. Hopefully some of you will want to see and know more. Enjoy:

 photo image_zpsf98db2d6.jpg
Click for larger

Monday, July 8, 2013

Saturday, May 25, 2013

What If?

He saved my life.
Then he sent flowers.
Visited my hospital room.
But I can't talk to him.
I said he triggered horrific flashbacks.
I might have lied.
For my fiancé?

Diva Challenge 118: Ebony and Ivory

This is it. My first Diva challenge. Ebony and Ivory, wherein I attempt to blur the line between writing with a black pen on white paper and a white pen on black paper. Successful or not, here it is....

Ebony and Ivory photo image_zps1b846c9e.jpg

Monday, May 6, 2013


My entry for Mindful Creations Adventures in Monotangles 9

. I seem to have an easier time with white on black.

 photo image_zps6887a171.jpg

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Rick's Paradox

So named because you never draw a curved line and yet look at these curves! For Mindful Creations Adventures In Monotangles 2 I went out of the box and thus was a little late in entering.

 photo image_zps533b3cfb.jpg

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Friday, April 5, 2013


We take a break from your regularly scheduled programming to switch from writing to drawing. Today, Mindful Creations Adventures In Monotangles 5: W2 (as the title says.

Monotangle 5 - W2 photo image_zps2842fab2.jpg

Friday, March 29, 2013


Liam wasn't surprised to see his father sitting a few rows away. The judge called his case, robbery this time, muttering faintly audibly "the goddamn apple doesn't fall far from the tree, eh?"

Saturday, February 23, 2013


A spray of pine needles found umbrage on the breeze. They'd left the mother tree with no quiescence. A swing of blankness ripping wild off the bark. Gone in flapping panic. Quietly hidden.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013


The world goes 'round and I am its toy. Like a cat with a bell, it bats me across the room, spins me around on my ass, drops me from great heights, and then tucks me under its smelly armpit while it takes a nap.

I don't believe in destiny or fate or that there really is any sort of grand purpose to life. And yet the more forcefully I don't believe, the more life pushes back, sending cryptic messages floating endlessly in my bathroom sink until one day I notice the corked bottle and pull it from the sudsy warm water.

The rolled up note inside says it all. Intention clear as a bright winter noon. Causality unshrouded. Purpose gloriously revealed. Except the note is written in ancient Sumarian and I cannot read it. I know, somehow, that I am holding the keys to the kingdom in my hand, but they are slippery with soap and my fingers fail to grasp them. Down the drain they slide and with them my chance for enlightenment.

I say "my chance" as if there is but one. With questions so large, surely there are more chances. Because I know the answers. Somehow. Somewhere deep in my thick skull I know there is more. Perhaps I simply choose not to try. Perhaps I am scared. Or tired. Or too damaged.

Eventually the cat hits the bell hard enough and it no longer rings. The world has no use for a bell that cannot chime.