Softer now—my heart and how it melts and pools inside my chest. That’s what happens when you have a child, they say. But still I feed the fear both in my sleep and in my waking hours. Someone is always next. I cradle my sweet boy. The men inside my family all of them always …
It has been six months since my grandmother’s passing. Sometimes things like art grow still inside a grieving heart. Perhaps I'm ready to write again. Time will tell. She was singing a year ago, Thanksgiving in our kitchen, Which is why I remember it. Now I watch, through the narrow slit of a newly painted …
Continue reading Lace and Yellow Roses
There’s not much literary inspiration in caring for my grandmother. There is a lot of sadness—a lot of bittersweet hanging like cobwebs from the ceiling. A lot of soaking up a final moment, and yet still thinking you’ll have many more to come. But after a few months, we are now down to our last …
Do you know how many novels I have authored in my head? I walk around in circles with imaginary words. Sometimes the words are so loud I climb beneath the covers and I scream. Sometimes I eat them. Take a corner of an m and gnaw and gnaw like dogs with bones. Sometimes I light …
Yeah. I know. I snaked the title from James Joyce. But Adam and I are on a little Eurotrip, so creativity is waning in favor of staying up a bit too late. Our first night in Dublin is anything but dull, not that dull has ever been a word used to describe Ireland. I’m not …
When I speak, the ghost of self leaks out my mouth. Like smoke, or vapor. My fingers curl out from my nostrils. I am watching the all of me cast out and drive away. It is too hot here. And the world is far too sad. There is too much anger for the sadness, as if we …
Continue reading Bird Watching
Forgive me, friends. I have been away, occupied with turning my house into a jungle. So far, all is going well and up to speed. When I was in India, the people had such connection with the wildlife growing all around them. It re-inspired me. Recreated me. Reincarnated me into a living, breathing being. I …
I’m in India. I guess I could just start there. Sitting on the balcony patio of my boyfriend’s uncle’s porch, surrounded by lush palms, tropical flowers, and Queen of the Night blossoms, who’s nightly scent still lingers sweetly in the morning air. Mooti has brought me coffee (getting used to servants is quite an unusual …
Continue reading Namaskaram (India, Day 2)
The Wild Heart of Life 