worth: a memory

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 …

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From Bullets to a Fire

View from a mile down the road:   If you didn’t know, after my last post about the shooting, my community has since been on fire (I just got internet access back).  What a fucking week.  I went from a town vigil to evacuating Adam’s mom to then evacuating myself and my family.  Not to …

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When it Hits Home: A Shooting Next Door

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 …

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Something about Dogs

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 …

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With Candles Lit by Tears

I intended to do far more writing while abroad.  Until I got sick.  Ibiza offers far too little sleep, and far too many other things.  And after I got sick, I got sick with something else. Then sick with something else, and it seemed the illnesses came in waves.  I’m a fragile little bird. However, pharmacies …

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