Reading over old writing. Perhaps, this is how I begin to write again… Grapefruit I cut in half the grapefruit, grieving, pierce its skin, prepare it for my spoon remember our long conversation—ode to grapefruit—on our way to work: you, on your grandfather’s knee, tasting pink sweeter than white, its bitterness a cure for appetite. that day, in a library…
Category: Poetry
Scars
On her arms memories of blades raise skin. Bare signs that, even if written over, remain. I kiss these badges of pain tenderly. Open her hands, place them on mine, and trace, cross-cross, and draw my lips over her. Many times did she descend and find her way back. Many times did she find her pulse. Many wounds. Repairing.
Temperance
there is nothing special here. just an ordinary day the crunch and clink of a cat eating his food, incessant checking and re-checking of Facebook, catching my breath from a day of moving. will I ever breathe the same way again? I brew tea with herbs that are meant to put me to sleep, after bathing with lavender and the chaos…
This Yearning. A Door
A reading of my poem, “This Yearning. A Door.” Today I’m preparing for my Priestess training day on Reclaiming the Wild Self. I’ll be sharing some of my journey from fear to fearlessness. I’m kind of amazed how the simple choice to trust my instincts has changed my life! What is one thing you would do to bring you closer to a…
Doors to the Wild Self
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life,…
Dancing the Three of Swords
my culture is an angry man flooding the living room my culture is a dragon’s tongue frightening the air my culture is a salt and pepper beard who swallows drink and he calls me his princess and i willingly sleep on hard pink curlers and dance for company arms outstretched and smiling i believe i can dry up his voice…
Warrior Unmuzzled
To destroy the foundations and be fire. Do you remember what it feels like to be heat? Stop sitting by the waters edge and dive in. Who cares if your legs and arms are fat. Take off your clothes and be seen. See yourself with loving eyes. No more apologies and tilted frames to hide in. When will you remember…
She Dares to Feel Rough Edges
There is a poet inside ready to come out. There is an initiation on the horizon. An apprenticeship. A great trust in the universe to provide safe ground. There is a learning and a crafting, A new vocabulary ready to spring forth. There is a poet inside, and She dares to feel rough edges.
Without Limit: Poem
without limit uncontainable, she is ocean, she is sky, she is what cannot be grasped I remember to sense vastness; I touch lightly the watery horizon blue fading into blue I remember to believe when I am with her. I remember, too, how difficult this lightness can be too often I want to hold the ungraspable. too often I want…