I lead a writing workshop at a local shelter for homeless women. I usually come prepared with prompts but this last Friday, I didn’t. I felt like being spontaneous. I picked up the supplies at the front desk and went to the activity room. One of the women asked for the green notebook to write…
All of the paradox and contradictions. I always wished I could make pretty things. I wish I was a pretty thing. But what’s true is I am messy and complicated. I make more messes. I make pretty messes. I’ve been doing some inner calibration lately and ran across this journal entry from earlier this year. …
her fingers so soft on tight flesh sinuously stroking the deepest innerworkings (shadow dance) his complexities and contradictions had her wanting more the deep empty beckoned erotically entangled in the black, hollow void stripped bare of personal desire mesmerized and aching the stillness pulling and engulfing wet madness dripping off the edges union became a…
she waits with an eternal ellipses like still water after a storm Animus lunges forward toward her stillness –ready ready to receive his turgid embrace delicious Divine dance tantric transmutation they merge exhaling whispered longing circling back to their unknown, unspoken joy she waits with an eternal ellipses like still water after a storm ***…
I don’t remember when it happened exactly, but it did. I was probably really young and impressionable at the time and I drank it in: The criticism and judgments of others, the conditional acceptance that comes with colonizing. I heard things like: Be like me and I’ll like you. Don’t be too much of…
Your body is away from me But there is a window open from my heart to yours. From this window, like the moon I keep sending news secretly. ~Rumi