This morning, I led my second writing workshop at a local homeless shelter. Before I arrived, I chose the following prompt: In the silence I understand… We do 20 minutes of free writing and then share. I found it interesting that one of the women I was working with could hear but didn’t speak. I…
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 ***…
invited in but always careening towards something (careless footsteps) skin throbbing from the sting (and not wanting to forget) the pulsating rhythm of blood rushing to the point of entry bathed in sunlight, the clenching stops while quiescent clouds gather rich, mellifluous enchantment moments and memories stitched together (everything in his house has a story)…