I don’t like having more than one of anything. It feels wasteful. I mean, one hairbrush will do. My wedding dress and cake had no decorations, no ribbon or flower. Nothing. In my day-to-day, I map out the most efficient route for errands. Lose time and you’ve lost the irretrievable. It hit me that the… Read More I Enjoy Stripping
Elmhurst was really a town back then, not too fond of change though the quiet was punctuated by noise you’d expect of a New York city. Depending on who your neighbors were, you got the occasional Mariachi outside your window or the Mexican bass throbbing under your feet. Elmhurst housed people in boxes, brick apartment… Read More The Floor I Couldn’t Reach
Those who might have thought the Wayfarer congenial up until now must know The Godmother from New York has taken over this leg of the trip (see Uncle?) and California Girl’s backseat, engrossed in a book. Last I checked, blogosphere was a beautiful democracy. If you are offended by what follows, remember you are free… Read More The Writing Process II, Part 3: From the Grammar Mafia
i chew the leaves of my poem they fan green and spirited in the height of their hour veins visible like these that inscribe my hand, run with the life of dreams that have nowhere to go but back down to the branch to the root you don’t see look: their asymmetry of being red… Read More the leaves of my poem
Voices in the dark under the light of their writing. You teach me so much and inspire me to live more beautifully. Just had to tell you how much you mean to me. No one knows how much time we have together, right? Which reminds me, I really need to give Husband my WordPress password… Read More Ode To My Readers
Early this year: “Birds fly. Horses run. You write.” “Awwww, honey. SO sweet!” But wait. Two weeks ago: “So dya see my post?” “Oh, yeah. It was GOOD. Sounded like you plagiarized or something.” ????? My Biggest Fan, Part 1
so i decided i am more than the answer to “what’s for dinner?” the unrelenting pile of dishes more than the name i changed at the altar, and the ways i fail Husband more than the boy i nursed ’til i was spent and would give… Read More st r u gg ling artist
He’s come to expect a lot from me on this board. “You’re not Shakespeare and not everyone’s going to wow all the time but once in a while you hit these home runs.” Gee. Thanks, Husband. Comments closed.
Crack open time Poetry sifts the moment The lyric of dreams aborted hope hearth of pain Poetry is the space between the noise outside and my voice Poetry reasons is intention question assurance a luscious joy Jealous for beauty Poetry, watercolor memory surfaces to clear lines, light Poetry … Read More On Poetry
I started a poem in my dream. I worked and worked through the rigorous process as I do in the day, felt the thrill of seeing the words come together. I wrote a real poem in my sleep – actually, a pretty good one. And then I — WOKE. I surfaced tired from all that… Read More My Dear Readers, The Sun Stole The Poem I Had For You
A Holistic Journey 