The A3

I’ve been so focused on improving my writing, I’ve been neglecting my art of late. Someday, I will again have time to do both. I’m thrilled to have my artwork–a large piece 4’x4′ in real life–be featured in, The A3 Review Gold Issue, #8, April 2018–it’s a pocket-sized magazine sizzling with bountiful brilliance. You must check out their website. And if you’re a writer or an artist, I highly recommend submitting work. If your piece is accepted, you’ll get a basket of treasures!


eee boo👻love of the monster👹ebook soon🤗so very excited!!!

hope you’re all managing okay within your personal universe and this big beautiful sometimes very bad world of ours

I’ve been offline quite a bit, severely cutting back on social media in a huge effort to create new work I can attempt to submit for publication
(most online journals and magazines will not take blog pieces as these are considered previously published works)
I’m sorry I haven’t been posting here more regularly, I do miss WP
and I apologize for not returning comments quickly

this getting rejected stuff is quite depressing and mind-numbing sometimes
but I guess one must continue to fight the good fight
or better still, work toward creating a seminal piece of work
I’m not nearly there, not by a long shot

I do thank you for stopping by from time to time
and I’m so very excited for the ebook version of, love of the monster, to be out this November!
I’ll be pulling the plug on the print version about the same time and must kick a family member out of the house to make room for cartons of books 😊

exposing myself

Burbage’s Globe
Aerial fly-bar
Frozen pond
Grassy slope
Low-rent stage in high-rent district
Chipped pedestal
Monkey barrel
Coffee house
Social media
Lemonade stand
Wet inked
Periodical slickened
Dick Blick canvas
Lincoln Center
Street corner
Library room with one transom
Long pier
Short pier
Mountain top with foot-warmer
Convention hall with stadium seating
Conference hall with folding chairs
Above a deli
Below him
Bareback ride across sunset primed sand
Charlie’s Angels’ intercom
Anywhere “O” speaks–
or suits with sneakers gleefully dance
Red carpet
Leaning on Harry’s white Steinway as he plays
I wear dazzling white gown in above image
sometimes gown is gorgeous emerald
on rare occasions–blood crimson

Sydney Opera House
Basement studio
a few of the the many places I pretend my words and art expose themselves

marble journal

well, here we are my friends, into another season
the season you choose inside that amazing mind you were gifted
over some earthworm who must content himself
with getting washed from his hole come spring
I do not own this thought
it is one I pass on to my children
vessels safeguarding future knowledge trapped inside present time
a new morning over coffee, I’m caught in a precious time warp
staring at me, before it gets stowed into his school backpack
a loaded composition notebook–sentinel of coagulated educational emotion
this particular marbled gem of bound cyan lines is bursting at its stitching
so bloated, it appears yanked from the Dead Sea then baked on some remote Mayan steppe
I wonder about my son’s limitless thoughts, the ones I’ve seen, the ones I never will
triggered by calculated classwork prompts
I believe I know my son as well as I know myself
my crammed journal has not been as honest as his
learned years have taught me to erase
going forward, I’d like to use the mind I’ve been gifted
and not get washed from a worm hole come spring
this year I choose the season of color
no neutral shades will hide my eyes or stifle my pens
I will be honest in my art
I will be honest in my writing

my first honest thought
this scares the crap outta me

Paper Shadow

Paper Shadow

a rose by any other name is just plain silly

please bear with me here
this is a little silly and I hope you don’t mind
it’s about a name
specifically, mine
I’m preparing to self-publish an illustrated book of verse
(or implode which ever comes first)
contemplating the horrors that are marketing and social media
I know there will be no shoving of any kind
no please, please, please like me
or buying readers lollipops (well, I might give lollipops)
while mulling over cover designs
then considering over-stimulated memories, over-saturated book shelves and over-saturated markets
I started pondering the length of my name much like Ebenezer Scrooge had to ponder the length of his chains
I began wishing my name wasn’t so name-ish
lyrical names: Virginia Woolf, J.K.Rowling, Mary Shelley, Maya Angelou, Sylvia Plath
these spectacular writers have glorious memorable names in equal measure
my name
just way too long (and a little funny;))
AnnMarie Roselli-Kissack
when I attempted a wee bit of creative retooling ‘odd’ things ensued
a rosekiss
well, I looked that up in the urban dictionary
anus kissing–this is not good on any day
(unless we’re speaking figuratively and I might have to at some point;))
wet between the ears and a migraine from stampeding animals
and my personal favorite
Ann R.K.
say this fast
and your present state turns immediately into disorder
the next attempt was a whimsical nom de plume
the best I could do was Ann Merlot
(this suggested by 2 women both over 80 years of age)
unsure, I queried a dear, intrepid writing friend
who suggested Ann Merlot might go well in a nightclub
(a very dark nightclub with shiny poles)
she smartly and wisely put me back on the path to name normalcy
so if and when this book of mine surfaces
as the leaves begin falling off the trees
and you once again dream of sugar plums and lollipops;)
there just might be a book somewhere out there
by a silly gal who goes by the name–
AnnMarie Roselli
set in bold, sans serif, 18 point type

oh yea, thanks DS

Pencil Cap