There was a pair of house finches building a small nest outside our window. I’d watch them weave it all together—the female, with her muted brown feathers, working relentlessly on her art. The twigs meticulously placed, one over the next—how they intertwined with one another. The male, with his bright cherry red head and breast, …
Continue reading The House Finch
I feel it there, between my heart and ribs, Along that thin strip of flesh. A crack upon the sternum Words And how they rest there in the shallow scoop of skin A clavicle. Words and how they rest there Fingers how they hover on an iliac Scapulae and how the feathers bleed when they …
Continue reading Unbreak the Son: a poem
I used to twist my words until they told stories I had never heard before. Too forgiving, other people used to say. A woman— Maintaining imagery, An object to be viewed. I know how to blame myself And how to polish the same wineglass till it sparkles— Till it shatters in the hand. I remember …
Continue reading worth: a memory
We are on fire out here, again. The wind, despite how I may love her, is cruel. And yet, the presence of her here is electrifying. My hair tingles at the places where it meets my scalp. Before, I am asleep. Now, I am suddenly awake. At the group meeting, we sit in a circle. …
My cousin told me once that when she was trying to quit smoking, she buried her tobacco. She walked all along down the beach until she found a place within the sand and she buried it. If I remember right, she rolled one last cigarette before she nested the loose shreds of leaves into the …
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 …
Today, I placed my forehead on the keyboard and typed the letter j a hundred times. With my nose. The tip of it. Something soothing in the motion. I never loved the letter j and yet here I am, a stream of jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs across the page. I was supposed to water my grandmother’s roses today, …
Continue reading A Haunted House and Dying
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
The Wild Heart of Life 