©2017 by Nowhere.Ink

Amanda Cary is an author of short stories, poetry, and currently in the throes of polishing her debut novel, "Born in Dyad."


Under her belt, she carries multiple awards for her poetic endeavors and short fiction collection. 

She is a mother, wife, gypsy, and musician. 


When we found our place 
We were cracked and crested
Fallen into days that did not exist
Beyond clueless obligations shifting


Cold bones wrapped in paper skin

Trailing behind the chain
Who gave no bushel in return
For the forage of spirit in its path


"Is that a bit of lipstick on your collar, bro?"

I couldn't help but snicker. My dot-the-i's, cross-the-t's, thirty-four-year-old brother made a booty call on Thanksgiving day, and he forgot to clean up the evidence. Wonderful...

We Swing Left

of the Sycamore Tree