Friday, November 4, 2011

I expected to be inspired long ago by you. The way we came together, two raging fires. I expected it to yield volumes of poetry, pages of prose- at the very least, a note or two. And yet, we spent the first years of our melding locked in one another, blocking out the light of others; no one to enter the sacred bond. There are buds of stories locked tight inside my belly, I thought the hot water of your love would open them to flower. But they’ve shrunk to less than leaves, browning, itching and bothering.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The type of love that bends you to your knees and makes you cripple with tears.

In a space where two loves, old and new, mingled together to form an all encompassing and piercing from of love all directed at me. It made me weep. That is where you can find pure love, white light love, fierce love- when you can allow your past and present to come together, sit with you and give you the strength to carry on.

Monday, January 3, 2011


My grandmother once told me the secret to enjoying chocolate- don't bite it. She learned this on Oprah, she commented, that a French woman had informed her. You could let it melt around your teeth and to the warm spot on the middle of the muscle of your tongue. Feel it over the soft crevasses on the top of your mouth, hold it under the muscle. I always eat chocolate that way now and think of her in her Sunday pant suit, telling me just how to get the most of my after dinner chocolate.