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. …
The girls and I were hanging out at the Seattle Center yesterday after school. It was a cold, autumn day and enormous gusts of wind had been blowing maple, birch and oak leaves all over the ground. The entire day seemed infused with a kind of magic that seemed carried on the wind. As Gigi…
My wrists and your fingertips. Words measured with care Splay me wide open. I’m yours.
in this time between seasons as the wheel turns and the days darken, the cold becomes turgid then flaccid and again– disorienting to this body that craves comfort. on a pilgrimage in the forest i am held and feel the soft earth ‘neath my feet. my warm breath is a bouquet of white flowers greeting…
I’ve been doing serious writing for weeks. My mind is wandering to stuff I like. Here goes: love fast cars open hearts dark chocolate strong men (and women) morning toes in wet grass kissing (lots) puppy breath my kids singing dancing flowers petting (both directions) friendship artmaking of all sorts smart people creative people truth…
she is big, bold, proud, naive with a loving heart she races ahead–join her!