Saturday, April 30, 2011


 Porcelain doll. Sleep all day. Lost in space. No need for cages. She don't need no time, anymore. Let's drive away, find a hidden place to stay, and watch it melt away. Eat and sleep with me.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Tiger eyes...

They call the wind Mariah...

I live on the third floor in an attic. My room is a treehouse. With each step up the stairs it smells deeper- wet wood and musk clearing out. My windows are open and the breeze wisps the dust away. This morning the wind tapped on my window, knocking to me to wake. The trees outside shook from side to side, their trunks waving with the breeze. And I watched. Yesterday spring came, she said. When my eyes opened their dance had blossomed into new form.
Papa sang this song to me as a kid. It was my favorite (along with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star).

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Monday, April 25, 2011

Crossing over...

I want to run away. To the forest. Where the fairies will find me and lift me up. I don't want to cross the river. I will rest in the cool wood, and eat and drink from your cup. I will taste the dampness wrapped in a web of you. I can't move. I am here.  

Sunday, April 24, 2011

There are no reasons...

You are my girl. I remember biking the streets with you. Walking, talking, watching sun. Complaining about the dull day, making up dreams to share. Wondering old school yards and hallways- empty summer. The lockers and bathrooms sinks are so small. I decide to run across the soccer field. Leap. Laugh. And then lay down in rest. Dinners outside when the sun starts to fall, the twilight where everything mixes together. All of us. All of them. All pausing. Sharing a meal. Picking fruit. Leaving the dishes till morning dawn.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


Am I wrong to know my voice is right?
I know that I have a feeling to share, not one in which I am aware, 

but the winds blow my name
In this treehouse of insanity

I want to feel good. To feel right, 
and I believe that will be the magic. I so wish to find. I can do it all, it’s in my mind.

Walking through the world...

I remember kissing on a boat in the sun.
Road trips. Passenger seat.
Left over color.
Sleeping Zen.
Making Stars.
Sing with heart. Scream.
New Birth.
I feel best when I walk down the street. Sometimes with music in ear, sometimes the sounds of wind and passing cars are enough. Tilting my head back and looking up. Closing my eyes. Wondering if the stranger passing by will notice. I feel good moving through the world. Walking is a middle time, it's a getting from place to place, a before and after, but it has become the most sacred. For me. To be alone. Everything seeps in and my reflections are filling. Even sadness feels full.