I am selfish with him—Behind a locked white door in bed we lie, never leavingThe world wants himWhile I am scrambling for time. Split halfway in two when he emergedMy body stitched together, much of me left pooling on a white tiled floorLabor of the body and of loveBlue lips and knotted cord—Is he breathing?I …
It’s taken me now just about a month to come up with words to express my feelings of our time. I’ve thought about it a lot—nearly endlessly, to be honest. The words I would normally write feel cheap—because it hasn’t really gotten better, certainly not for many of us. And it might not get better …
Continue reading On a Hot Tin Roof
The way the calls come late at night, and the way that you don’t sleep. Lie staring at the ceiling; know that you must leave town in the morning. The way you need to buy an apple pie for the drive. Let it sit upon your lap the whole way home. You don’t even like …
Nothing is too ugly for this world. I think, rather, it is us pretending not to see. My father tells me a story, about my grandfather’s funeral, and how an uncle approached him and asked if he had seen the casket yet. I am two, maybe three, on some stranger’s lap probably beside my brother, …
Continue reading Bad Hairdo at a Funeral
At the grocery store this week, a woman dropped a box of blueberries. They went everywhere. She was too old to pick them up, and people up and down the aisles just stopped and stared. I just stopped and stared. Her trembling voice, shouting “Cleanup—I need a cleanup!” Embarrassed. Close to tears. Fucking blueberries. All …
Continue reading Feeling Blue[berries]
I have been working on my book like a fiend. Like some little witch nestled away, brewing her magic. Which doesn’t leave much time for very nearly anything at all. That being said, I was thinking about dogs the other day. About what they mean for adventure and for life. I was thinking about my …
Continue reading Something about Dogs
Alright. We’ve figured out the source of my varying afflictions: I’ve got bronchitis. Cheers. It certainly explains the foggy week I’ve had. Not the best—and certainly it did not end as such. However, I came home to find a ring-necked dove eating the chicken scratch laid out in my yard, and that was rather nice and …
Continue reading Coffeeshop Musings
There is Sagebrush, growing on the lining of the trail. It is medicinal in all the ways it plants its healing essence in my mind. The scent of it, smokey and wild, like cedar, rich and smooth but thick with how it clings heavy in the air. When I pluck a branch, the syrup of …
Continue reading Sights and Scents and Dreams of California
The Wild Heart of Life 