The Politics of Kneeling

I'm going to do this.  God help me, I'm going to make a political post on my non political blog. And I may regret doing this tomorrow, because I already know it's going to prickle at the skin of many people that I know.  But whatever, Neimöller has long taught me otherwise.   That, and, the …

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A Laugh like Butterflies

So there’s this bridge, yeah? The Swinging Bridge [of death] strung like a tightrope over some pretty chill looking rapids and by chill I mean frigid not cool. My boyfriend’s running back and forth across it like a Circus Act and I’m just kind of lingering at one end, swiping the toe of my boot …

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Postscript

There’s a lot of beauty in the world. I forget that. A lot.  As in pretty much every damned day. And there’s a lot of love in the kindness of strangers. I think that’s something worth celebrating. Everywhere I’ve travelled, I’ve met people with whom I’ve exchanged a piece of myself. It’s a little tradeoff, …

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Creative Writing Friends…send me your work.

The Northridge Review is shifting to an online literary magazine.  We are accepting work from writers across all genres, fields, what have you.  I'm the Prose Editor for the Spring Edition, and I'd love to see your stuff.  Send me your weird, eclectic, unconventional writings.  Make my skin crawl.  Give me nightmares.  Or, just tell …

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Can’t Stop Love

So I went to a march last Sunday. A peaceful protest. A communal sign of support. Let's just call it a love walk; I'm running out of synonyms. It was at our local Islamic Community Center, a mosque with golden spires that, at the onset, appears out of place in that little residential community. But …

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Starry, Starry Night

I love the stars that blanket the sky.  Their shimmering surfaces, shrouded in winking flames.  Perhaps I love them for the secrets they hold.  Born from nebulae, living for millions of years before exploding into a supernova, what a glorious name for death.  We become spirits that roam the earth, but they shimmer with the …

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Where Fine Dust Lingers

Deep in the desert, haphazardly tucked a few miles off a highway that runs parallel to the dehydrated fish coated shores of the Salton Sea, lies a city. Not by definition as much as by name, Slab City is a reconstructed military compound, inhabited by vagrants, meth heads, veterans, cons, and women fleeing abusive relationships. …

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