The declaration

is so soft

no one notices and

when our breath catches

in our wine swollen throats

we wonder how

such debauchery

could have snuck in.

For my birthday

I asked for a 12

pack of toilet paper

and a sturdy pair of boots.

The first to fight

the ration shortage,

the second to fight

standing still.

For your birthday

the state of Virginia

banned oral sex

along with all the other



nature so I

sent you a picture

of me


the turkey blaster.

We still manage to see

fireworks even though

they are not

really fireworks.

In some distant

country not yet at war

with us the arches

of a cathedral crack.

I make an altar

out of pilfered bird

bones by the river

you will never see again.

Five tornadoes

touch down inside

the cradle

of a 10 mile radius.

We all raise

our arms

but we cannot

hear each other scream.

10:15 p.m. the sun never sets. Clear sky blazing like a promise. People who are used to this kind of thing have it easy. I’m not used to it at all and I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The sky, I mean. Of course, it’s a living, breathing metaphor for everything coming to an end. Or a false promise. All I know is the haunted clock tower I pass by every night on my way to work is beautiful too, even with the evaporating ghosts. Yes, I’m still walking to work even thought I don’t have to. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually go to work, I just want to get away from everyone. It’s nice, even with the smashing and the sunlight. I’m still breathing. The sun is still up there. It’s not going to go away.


Jane loves yoga. She loves it so much she risks life and limb dodging ravenous zombies and expending valuable resources like food and energy just to get to her weekly class. It helps her cope with the daily grind of post-apocalyptic Rural America and help her through the grieving process at the recent loss of her mother. Jane loves yoga so much that when an unexpected zombie finally catches her off guard, it helps her cope with life as a cog in the legion of the undead. Follow along with Jane as she transitions from yoga loving human to yoga loving brain muncher!

My short story, Namaste Apocalypse, is now available for free on

Click here to grab your copy.

All you have to do to sign up is create a username and password, it’s free to sign up and you can get oodles and oodles of awesome free stuff.

Enjoy 🙂