How much of writing is re-writing? How much of living is re-living? I sip my coffee. I remember the voice inside of me croaking out; she’s hoarse; she’s deep; she’s poised. I remember shouting for someone to love me. Men. All of them. Love me. I remember this voice changing. Going dark for boys with… Continue reading Your Writing Voice
for as long as i can remember the children cried the pots seared and the tea boiled for as long as i can remember the breeze was outside while the smoke was in i’d swat at the flies i’d ruffle the bed i’d wait i’d cry while the children slept, i’d pause again for the hour… Continue reading past life inheritance – breaking old social structures
Sometimes I forget that I’m creative, that I came here, in a sea of traveling light that can illuminate even my darkest ideas. “What’s wrong with me?” is the mantra that has created elaborate worry. Illnesses in my head, potential threats and warlocks, taking over the healthy parts of my body. Making them dead. Dizzy… Continue reading tonight, i forget. tonight, i remember.
“I can’t sleep in this fevered dream.” It always starts with a “Yesterday” or a “Last week” or some marker in time, as if closeness or distance matters to what’s right, versus what’s right now. As it goes, yesterday, I received a surprise Reiki session, gifted by my neighbor and former client, Arthur. He wrote… Continue reading Writing and Editing at the same time, in one brain