last night,
we spoke of ragas
(and how they find their way to the end)
we spoke of not being right
(and the right to just be)
we spoke of care and not judging the lost ones
(and i trusted you a little more)
today,
the camellias are blooming soft and pink
(opening to the sun)
I hurt my finger on Friday morning. Badly. At the time, I was rushing to get my kids to school because my older daughter slept through her alarm and needed a ride. My roommate asked if I was okay. I told her yes but in actuality, I was in tremendous pain, the kind of pain…
Robins wrench worms from the softening earth, trilling songbirds pour their song into the wide sky, Narcissus flirt with vibrant skirts and a thousand shades of green dance in ardent winds. Oh Spring! Penetrate me with your turgid madness! I surrender.
ecotherapy: leaves fall softly (whispering) hummingbird says hi!
Glittery pink and white targets.
I’m only going to say this once. No, I’m actually going to keep saying it. In fact, I’m participating in NaNoWriMo and this is what my novel is going to be about. All fictionalized to protect the not-so-innocent, naturally. This is what sexual and emotional repression and religious oppression get you: Married men who pretend…