sunday morning haiku
softness of an infant’s head
the scent of amber
a Mariachi band plays!
softness of an infant’s head
the scent of amber
a Mariachi band plays!
The way your voice fills the room like honey sunlight your tongue touching a certain place in your mouth– I lean in. (aching) Words spill recklessly from your beautiful mouth unfiltered and weighted, the pressure of them sticks to me no–not the pressure, the power it has a…
His Futile War He and she The space between Push Pull Plunder Pillage Penetrate– Her earth Her womb Her mystery. She will not be contained. She engulfs– like the ocean or quicksand. She envelopes– like a carpet of sky or hot lava. She is volcanic mystery overflowing. He tries to contain the uncontainable.
Oh! The gentle grace of a feverish afternoon. You lay in my arms in your perfection, sleeping fitfully my lips kissing wellness into your forehead– your cheeks. You awaken, believing it a new day (I tell you I remember that feeling when I was sick!) and proclaim today you will be “peppier”. We watch the…
Someone recently asked me for tips on being a good writer. I thought about it and realize that it really applies to everything in life. This is all pretty obvious, I suppose, but it’s what I’ve learned the hard way. It’s advice I would give anyone at any stage of life: Find yourself. Get a…
I created a new word about something I have done a lot which I am henceforth eliminating from my vocabulary. Yes, that’s right, I am both creatrix and destructrix right now, in this moment. The word is “reminiscilocomotion (verb): the act of moving forward while looking back.” I am not the girl who got “bad-touched”…
I had a conversation last night with a friend about inner work and spirituality. We talked about how easy it is to get self-righteous and think we all have all the answers on the path of life. I related a story to her about a healing session I once had where the healer suggested I…