Level Up

BrockaPolitics, Work1 Comment

Classically trained in New York by a brutal Russian, the retired ballerina became a severe Pilates instructor in her retirement years. Exhausted, but never knowing rest. One experience folded into the next. Like falling dominoes, we don’t know what one introduction, or time period, or opportunity in our lives will be what gives way to the next version of ourselves.   ~~~  There is downtime in his roofing business. So mostly on a whim, and struck by something said at church, he rushed into the opportunity to become a substitute teacher at a local junior high. With the background check and credentials run, he showed up with excitement. It was quickly apparent how demoralizing it was. He bemoans their disrespect and disregard and … Read More

BrockaLevel Up


BrockaPoliticsLeave a Comment

The optimists amongst us felt Covid would bring us all together. For the first time in ages, the entire world was in the same boat, fighting the same enemy. A global pandemic meant survival was at stake. Inevitably, it became another political fight and tribal dividing line; personal rights vs the common good.   To witness every country take a stand against Vladimir Putin and Putin’s war (not the Russian people) has been awe-inspiring. Finally, real evil is exposing itself.   We are way beyond minor grievances that show up as micro-aggressions and culture wars privileged people find time to argue about in editorials and on Twitter.   Too many of us are cowardly in our personal lives: we don’t speak up; … Read More



BrockaArt, RelationshipsLeave a Comment

Once upon a time, a young tween dallied with an older crowd too high on their intellectual horses. They’d convene at bespoke coffee shops and sit in a circle writing, then sharing, their poetry. The proses were overwrought in attempts to define and describe love. It barely scratched the surface of lived experience. They mostly knew of like and wanting. They didn’t know the meaning of the verb, love -or that it is a verb, an action; a behavior. It is not a line you drop to claim someone or a tool used to beg for forgiveness, “Don’t you know I love you though!”   You can love the taste, the smell, the touch or feel, the look of any number of things.   To … Read More



BrockaPoemsLeave a Comment

One pull of a string collapses everythingHeld together by sheer mental pressure keeping one’s composure in the throes of a scene A room full of people; all thoughts contagiousTheir influence sets to ruinDon’t underestimate the mob determining It’s pure love to not need them. You can’t prove love to the demons Run from the crowd of people where they lack the sense to deliberateas they fall over their own cast-asides and throw awaysWillingness to inflictIgnorance sounds so certainBreak away from all the tearing down and their obligations to participate It’s pure love to not need them. You can’t prove love to the demons Stay in my nightgown for daysIn the mode of dress, I can takeadvantage of my own space; … Read More


The Russians

BrockaMusic, Short Stories, TravelsLeave a Comment

The four of them are in a dark room. The only light streams in through a large window from the streetlights outside. One of the four, a seventeen-year-old girl, stands on a chair placed in the middle of the room wearing only a large sarong wrapped around her body with her hair in a bun. She sings a cappella to her tiny audience of three, two Russian guys from Moscow and a Russian girl by way of Vancouver, Canada.   They have all found themselves in this dorm hall, in Prague, during the summer school session. The singing American girl and the Canadian met in the train station in Munich, and decided to travel to Prague together. When they stepped out … Read More

BrockaThe Russians