Photos from Another Planet

Sometimes you step out of one reality and into another.

Sometimes it feels instantaneous – the relief (or the regret).

Always move toward evolution.

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lessons from a street waif – don’t fall through the cracks, transcend them

The benefactor:
Sometimes people know that you are homeless. If you are young, and perhaps very pretty or have some kind of odd feature that is attractive, a more affluent potential protector may make it known that he wants to save you. (Again, sometimes a protector may be a she, but a he is more common). He may have a wife and even a daughter your very own age. He has all the best intentions for you – clean clothes, a warm bed, a shower, food. He might even take you shopping and out to a fancy restaurant . . .

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My Mother Taught Me Things

from: 108 Days of American Sentence – Day 9: Arms Wrap Around Me

I am surrounded, supported, and loved by strong, beautiful women.

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Backworld slipping is not an option

“Creativity ignited a spark. In that moment, I saw that art is not peripheral, beauty is not optional, but a strategy for survival.” – Terry Tempest Williams

I walked away a long time ago so that I could find out who I am.

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So much filling a room

We moved to a small room in an annex to the Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church. Nada Gordon was teaching – I think we were free-writing, getting warmed up.

My marriage was a disaster and I did’t necessarily feel like feeling anything – so I focused on the room and the sounds and the imagery and the energy of nervous writers filling the space. I put a lot of pressure on writing to take the place of music.

I’m guessing this happened in 2004.

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Five

Tangent pulled from the middle of this free-write: Brunettes. I love dark boys, the dark hair, the dark skin, the pale eyes. I never thought I had a type, but looking back I see I have a thing for Mediterranean men. Darker men. I love curly hair and almond-shaped eyes. Light brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes. Oh, but dark hair and lovely sharp features.

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Desolation Coucous

We experienced our grief in a new way – between our teeth, on our tongues, in our bellies. We were full. Our sadness was complete.

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You are Beautiful and I Love You

We made a pact. For three months we tried an experiment. We decided to write to each other every day, “You are beautiful, and I love you” – just to get used to it, ya know, just to get used to how it feels to be loved.

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