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Descend. Be stone no more. – The Winter’s Tale “Was Shakespeare a Woman?” – Elizabeth Winkler, The Atlantic Remember, when absence comes along ringing his empty bell of doubt that everyone will someday dream about the loves they lost and those they left among the ruins when the bonds theyContinue Reading

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The fae I found blessed me one winter day The way the act of how to give a curse Be swift with me and I will have my say Be wary before I rise and spill this verse. I bless you here with this Shakespearean curse: (A perfect Shakespearean sonnet)Continue Reading

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I. Methinks you’ll not say I exaggerateIn telling you that history repeats;Full oft, I used my craft to contemplateThe many ways, o’er centuries, Time eatsHer own. And, certes, Caesar such a case.The senate stamped him praetor maximus,Unthinking the Republic to erase,Yet Ides of March proved Time more ravenous:Brought down decorum,Continue Reading

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All that was mine in Silvia I give thee –Two Gentlemen of Verona How to make a woman mute: Give her to your friend like the object of affection she always was. In Shakespeare, lovers are always trading rings, each one the licked fingerprint of a beloved, an arrow toContinue Reading

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Ghosts walk, and there are witnesses. Dead men live to tell their tales. We, to hear and wonder, keep the watch, and dream of vengeance, execute the play. Let love go, she will not stay thee from thy god-invited way. Death calls for death. A little company is all thatContinue Reading

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He came to us in that odd way A feline knows– A porch seat empty, An opened can of tuna on the step His mind, a cat’s mind, simply seeking warmth and food. This feral creature did not know the generosity of a back rub, the safety of a lap.Continue Reading

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After William Shakespeare’s “The Tragedy of Macbeth” (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17–28) His hour upon the stage Was a tale well told Full of love and meaning Signifying everything. Time should stop When one so special no longer is. The sun should not rise Nor the moon shine. ButContinue Reading

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Across the western plain silence travels one unsteady foot at a time staggering, twisting, forward until even the birds stop their noisy chatter to watch his coming. The thirsty earth’s dry tongue avoids the travel- weary feet, licks at the pathway puddles but is not satisfied. Silence comes. Still. ShakespeareContinue Reading