Recently, I spent several hours alone at The Frye Art Museum drinking in the “Moment Magnitude” exhibit. I wrote pages in my journal. Random things I overheard people saying, snippets from the art descriptions or the videos and my own feelings and thoughts that arose. I also took pictures of things strangers had posted in…
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…
Did you watch this? Please do. This is absolutely what happens when you “act up” in a way that isn’t part of the sheeple social contract–you know, the one that you actually didn’t participate in creating but seem to be expected to follow?. I was once making sidewalk chalk drawings of hearts and the words…
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…
seagull chases heron (and wins!) the purring of a ferry engine and red, gauzy sky a kind father teaching his children to fish two kayakers gliding while girls throw stones a small tugboat gracefully pulls more than her share (a metaphor for mothering) there is peace here