Surrender to New Life
Still shaking off the ashes and wiping the dust from my eyes – a slow rise for a jeweled bird.
Read Moreimagination experiments of a stardust yogini
Still shaking off the ashes and wiping the dust from my eyes – a slow rise for a jeweled bird.
Read MoreIn the meantime, a little Jeff Tweed to color your week. The music is a sweet kind of folk/country/new americana that might make you pause for a few minutes.
Read MoreCan you see the sacred in everything? Can you see that you, yourself, are sacred? Can you also see that nothing is sacred?
Read MoreHappy Valentine’s Day, Humans.
Read MoreThe somewhere between all the time in the world and no time at all.
Read MoreI wrote a letter as my future self from 2020 to my 2017 self – to be read on the Winter Solstice 2020.
Read Morewhen little girls grow up
Read MoreI keep reminding myself to ask – what’s the gift? There is definitely the gift of going deep (no choice?), getting real, and looking fear and anger directly in the eye and allowing it’s expression by asking – what have you got?
Read More“I found an island in your arms
Country in your eyes
Arms that chain
Eyes that lie
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through oh, oh yeah”
The Doors
Read MoreTangent 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.
Read MoreI am moving house. Well, apartment to house. Still renting, but I am spreading out, sort of.
Whenever I move I find stuff – lots of writing especially. I write a lot, but it doesn’t mean I type it, or file it properly, or share it.
The discipline is in the order, not the action for me. I don’t know when I wrote this, I suspect right before moving to Arizona, 2006/2007, while I was leaving my husband and living in a basement in Brooklyn.
Read MoreEarly childhood Latter Day Saints storybook memory and how I learned that God was not a grumpy old man who spied on me from the sky.
This piece is featured in Elizabeth Hellstern’s interactive creation, the Telepoem Booth.
photo: Holly Troy
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