Tadpole Press

These tiny poems are freeing because they don't have to make sense. What does it mean to be a gleam in a buffalo's eye? What does it mean to be yesterday? Or a Saturday? What if whatever you wrote made perfect sense and no sense at all?

The keeper of the keys of time had watched over the kingdom longer than time itself. He walked the lands at night, checking every door. What

I started writing this blog, Living a Life Imagined, over 7 years ago. I heard that's the amount of time it takes our bodies to regenerate n

It's never too early and it's never too late to start following your dreams. It's always the perfect time.