My first book

My first solo book is being released.
The Heart of a Hurricane is Fear on a Stage in a Monsters Ballet
The August 29 Love Letters of Shadow Angelina Starkey

The night of August 29, 2005 I wrote a love letter to New Orleans. I begged her to survive.
Each year on the anniversary I write another.
I am releasing a hand bound book of those letters paired with 11 of my photographs of this place that I love so deeply.

Hurricane Katrina and the destruction of the federal levee system changed the lives of everyone who lived in the city of New Orleans.
It changed the lives of those who love this place.
It forever altered the way that many people see and feel about this country.
For others it was a sad confirmation of what they already knew.

Each book is be $10. If you'd like it mailed, continental shipping will be an additional $3.50

I'm taking orders now. You can click that little Buy Now button below or you can get one from me in person.
Make sure you use the dropdown menu for specifics.

Signing Options


Love has fur

Is it even possible to describe the losses of both Maila and Morgan this year and what that has done to my state of being?
As someone who does poetry and art for a living I really cannot think of a picture that I could paint for you out of words, or a parallel that I could draw to even come close to the emptiness I feel every day in this house.
Maila's nails aren't clicking on these strange tile floors. I can't hear Morgan snuffling off somewhere in search of a tasty morsel. No little snore snuffles in the middle of the night. No yawn/howls when I arrive home. No rubbing of her back into my foot over and over as she smushes her face into the couch.

My life is less now. Less beautiful. Less fun. Less meaningful/meaningless moments to be enjoyed or overlooked.

I have wicket and he is a joy. Perfect love and trust. He is a happy guy and there's something priceless about that happiness. He's also more nervous after losing the two he has looked up to his entire life. Tosh still mourns. I'll catch him wandering the house late at night with those inconsolable yowls of his. The only thing that brings them to an end is sweetly talking to him until he walks over, gets some love, and falls asleep.

We are all different for having loved and lost those girls.
Tosh is more depressed. Wicket is more anxious. Mischa is more open to wicket being affectionate. I don't shine quite so bright, I don't find myself dancing in my hallways. Remy has no animal that he snuggles with. Mom has it hit her frequently when she and Mischa come over. Gwydion feels almost lost with just one small dog to care for.

What is gone and irreparably harmed when the ones that we have promised to keep safe, die. And can we ever answer that question? Is the thing unknowable, all that is clear is its absence?

Maybe I'm ascribing an impossibility to cover for my inability to communicate the soul grinding ache of missing those two animals.

We got this house just in time to bury my loves in its soil.

All of the things

I edited and am a contributing author for an erotica anthology.

Esoterotica's First Anthology: Desire

I co-directed, co-produced, co-wrote, and co-starred in a New Orleans Fringe Festival show.


I took all the photos.

I'm still co-producing Esoterotica bi-monthly.

I am performing at the New Orleans Arena on December 27 for a huge poetry showcase before an NBA game.

Remy and I are buying a house.

In short, I come to lj at least twice a month and read but time to write..... yeah.


I'm hanging. Doing my best. Which is sometimes woefully inadequate and sometimes is awesome and is ALWAYS exhausting no matter the results. But as long as I'm not sinking in a mire, I'm doing what I need to be doing.
That has to be enough for now.

Multiple people with medical experience thought that I was going to lose my foot. That the damage was so severe that they wouldn't be able to reconnect the necessary pieces.
That was frightening.
I'm coming down off of that roller coaster now.

Not nostalgia. It really was wonderful.

I miss fishing. Going out in a boat in early morning, getting bait ready, eating fresh fruit for breakfast in silence while lines sit in the water. Catching, releasing or keeping, the excitement and laughter. Jumping into the ocean as the day gets hotter and then napping below deck to the gentle rocking and the sound of lapping waves. Sun warming your skin as you wake and you can feel the clean salt fall off of you. The traction of the deck under bare feet. The birds welcome you back at the dock. The sound of the ropes tightening. Hosing off the boat. Cleaning the fish. The smell of coconut, blood, and scales. Lemon, garlic, butter, pasta, white wine and even more laughter as dinner is consumed with people with whom you are safe, as the sun sets. The hugs goodbye, the quick shower to leave your skin soft from the buffing wind and salt and sand. Skin still warm from the sun even as the temperature drops. Falling blessedly, happily, into an uncomplicated sleep. There are times when I miss my Florida childhood. This is one of them. Good morning.

On a cool night in November

I am at a large lovely NOLA home in Treme that is owner occupied on the first floor with a second floor apartment rented to the bridal party. When we walked in the door softly hit something behind it. I thought it was a white German Shepard for an 8th of a second. It's a tiny mini donkey. Tiny horses, ponies, tiny donkeys, pygmy goats, and a pot bellied pig. All hail New Orleans!

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Maila is having surgery...

So Maila is sick. We don't know how sick. As of right now we know she has a serious infection. Doc thinks it may be due to cancer. We'll see. Tomorrow morning we are going in and expect surgery and lots of blood work.
This is me not freaking out. Riiiiight
Focus in the practical instead. Like how to pay for just tomorrow. Which is slated to be over $500.00 ahh life, thanks for the heads up. Anyway, I'm having a sale to cover some of her bills. Prices are low and there are incentives for buying multiples. Please take a look, tell your friends, get some art if you can. 

 Bigger than 4x6 

 4x6's and postcards! 

If you can't afford a shoot or a print but love to peek at my work online and want to say thank you, feel free to send thanks in the form of dollars! Even $5 helps, I swear.


Love Letters on August 29

My Love,
7 years. Has it been so long? So long since the event when so many of your children lost their lives, were failed, were flooded, were heartbroken, were scarred, were alone. In my memory like yesterday, and a thousand years ago at once.
7 years is a lifetime of the human body, shredding and growing anew. 
7 years to learn and change, grieve and be brave, leave and resent, leave and reminisce, become complacent and remain the same. Have we done enough? Of course not. But we have danced. We have danced, and laughed, and sang, and costumed, and second lined, and drank, and died, and been born, and held together while pulling so far apart. We have loved one another and forgiven above all else. Above ego and pain we have banded together and though we are short on patience, we are long on compassion.

A sideways wind blows tonight, Grandmere. A little boy named Isaac is throwing a little tantrum, like little boys do. Pulling at your skirts and being an unreasonable pest. Rain stings against my skin as I stand out in it and looking at me you can't differentiate the tears on my face for the water falling from the sky. I have listened to the fears and shaky voices of people who have never gotten over what happened 7 years ago. The betrayal, the loss. Not of things but of a sense of safety. 

Wind whirls and spins and shrieks outside of my home. Sirens fill the air as your children feast on one another. It all sounds like the mournful, panicked wailing of a lost woman and I lay here in the darkness, holding you close to me on this anniversary. Loving you madly, with an irrational loyalty, in completion.

New Orleanians, I love you. New Orleans, I love you.


My birthday is coming up and I've been given some monies to buy things for myself.
This happens when the man in your life is working 157 hours in a two week period.
He says, "I love you, please find things you like because I'm already asleep while we're having this conversation."
So, peoples, I'll be looking over etsy on my own but please give me your recommendations. Who are your favorite sellers? What things catch your eye? I want to support actual artists with what little money I have. So yeah. Gimme!