When do you reject the child?When she is born, her dark hair spiralingFirst cries brimming out into a hazy, too-bright roomOr when she is messy with her mourningIn a body that’s no longer hersCrippled in the hands of someone that she thought she loved. When do you reject the child?When she is knocking at your …
Continue reading A Poem for America
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]
Today when Adam left for work, we spent a long time in the doorway wrapped up in each other’s arms. A long time. An I-don’t-want-to-let-you-go amount of time. How fucking lucky am I that I still have him to hold onto, because some of my neighbors woke up without that gift. Some fathers today woke …
Continue reading When it Hits Home: A Shooting Next Door
Tonight, I am in the 70’s room. That’s what I am calling it. Floor to ceiling windows, wick furniture, mood setting lights, bright art and matching rugs. It’s an architectural/designer masterpiece. Murti’s brought me coffee, and (at uncle’s request as I am home alone), a beer. I am reflecting on the temples. Mostly because I …
Continue reading The Temple of Gloom, India Day 3
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)
You should know that I started this blog to detail my adventures. But, I am finding more increasingly, that my adventures often entail emotional experience, rather than "real life." This blog wasn't started to combat, or to argue. It was started to inspire. To better us (and, realistically, to better myself, as writing often does). …
Continue reading Open letter to LaPierre//The grandfather I never knew.
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 …
Continue reading The Politics of Kneeling
On April 29th, 1992, a Ventura County judge acquitted four LAPD officers of beating Rodney King. Reasonable force. More than 50 swings of a baton (a baton is made from wood, plastic, rubber, or metal; they function well in regards to breaking windows to rescue victims in driving cars or blazing buildings--imagine that force). Batons …
Continue reading A White Man’s World
The Wild Heart of Life 