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)
My day began in darkness. I padded out to the kitchen to put the water on for coffee, noticing the blanket of stillness tucked all around the morning. As I waited for the water to boil, I let my skin drink in the moonlight that was eagerly gushing through the windows and let my mind…
This is my daughters’ plastic horse which was given to them by my Mom. They love her and bring her oats and water. It’s very dear. I had a real horse that looked very much like her when I was a girl. Her name was “Lady” and she was both my best friend and my…
A spoken word piece that I wrote for a performance poetry class at Freehold. A smattering of what I find holy. Here’s the text if you like that sort of thing: Holy is the heart-shaped divet at the top of a mountain in New Mexico and the snowflakes that let me see its outline. That…
in autumn in the burgeoning light of a new day the songbird eats honeysuckle fruit getting stronger reclaiming gifts she once left behind to share freely in the rain she is cleansed and renewed returning home
today at the lake winter is nigh, the trees bare the sun a cold gift
flesh and blood am i not (only) a projection of your mind not a fantasy to keep you warm or feeling “sexy” tenderness and tears am i not a soft couch to visit when you’re lonely or need a surrogate mother sister wife flesh and blood and tears and sadness and smiles and joy am…