This is why I wrote you poetry and sprinkled your chest with rose petals. This is why I kissed you in public. This is why I made time to meet your parents. This is why I listened. This is also why I left. As I learn to fill my own cup, I realize why it…
Life is complicated, isn’t it? Recently, I was working at the front desk at work, a co-working space in Seattle. An elderly lady was sitting in stillness for almost two hours in the sunlight, her veined hands endlessly turning a brochure over and over. A half hour before closing, I decided to check on her….
“I know the way you can get When you have not had a drink of Love: Your face hardens, Your sweet muscles cramp. Children become concerned About a strange look that appears in your eyes Which even begins to worry your own mirror And nose. Squirrels and birds sense your sadness And call an important…
Qasida of the Woman Prone by Federico Garcia Lorca To see you naked is to remember the Earth, the smooth Earth, clean of horses, the Earth without reeds, pure form, closed to the future, confine of silver. To see you naked is to understand the desire of rain that looks for the delicate waist, or…
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…
there is no place here for the army of cruelty