The right amount of sadness

I spend nights alone, in a hotel room.  Sometimes in a cabin in the mountains. The cabin in the mountains, they’ve done up so that it’s covered in deer prints and wolf prints and bear prints and plaid.  Enamel crockery.  Indoor hanging vines.  Big picture window, so I can stand naked and cry before the …

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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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