Celebrity deaths tend to be straightforward news for me, easy enough to accept, even when I’m an admirer of the star in question. What ends befall the famous rarely wound or trouble me much at all. When someone I admire disappears from this life, my internal monologue peacefully rambles: A person succeeded, impacted, inspired, created […]Read More Pain // Power // Protest II
How does it feel / to be on your own / with no direction home / a complete unknown / just like a rolling stone? I am terribly alight with rage, so laden with sorrow—sometimes in passing, other times for days, weeks, longer (I don’t know what proportion of my days are spent this way, […]Read More Pain // Power // Protest I
One of the reasons writing is essential to me is its power to keep me connected to what I’m actually thinking and feeling. We live in a culture that places high value on money, primacy on its subjects as consumers and workers, whether we be consumers of entertainment, self-employed workers, what have you. Think about […]Read More Through the Looking Glass
Women know well the body’s intellect. We understand early our rhythm is bound to the sway of the planet and its moon. My faulty clock holds its breath, then releases all at once. It emphasizes my separation from the world, tells me I am a being offbeat. Still I wind up, I tick, exhale […]Read More Pray for Blood.
I come into this world as I am. In the dream, the love I mine is never enough. A woman I love attaches my name to disaster. To ugly things that crawl and poison her. For years I tell her the spelling of my name, but her language has no space for me. The woman […]Read More Presence.