Before imperfection I sought life’s meaning not knowing the rowing was it, not the arrival. Before I became ignorant I told others what to do believed I had answers not knowing even the questions. Before I became old I found age’s quiet boring its slowness a flaw, not knowing the rowing toward wisdom.
We ignore the bag we live in until it chastens us. Cut or burned, bruised or broken out, it becomes visible, heals like magic. In childhood it’s chicken pox, impetigo, measles. In high school it’s bouquets of pimples and ballooning fever blisters. Perfect skin is edible – who doesn’t desire to gobble a baby or… Read More BUBBLE NET
Aging is interesting.… Read More INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY
So sudden the flight from life…… Read More GULL
All my life, in addition to manager, teacher, dog walker, night librarian, cleaner of tiles, rocker of babies, folder of laundry, dish washer extraordinaire, I wanted to be a writer. Women are rarely one thing. We can’t resist our innate talent for nesting, team building, nurturing, placing others before ourselves. This is our gift. Our… Read More WHO WE ARE
Matter persists… Read More MATTER
Before a war we think we know
exactly how the war will go.… Read More WAR
Why can’t we eat clouds?… Read More CLOUDS
A stranger stands ahead of me in line at the Post Office in a dusty black hat grey gauze hanging below its rim. Her neck, also dusty, is bent, the vertebrae like tiny peaks. An old black jacket hangs from her shoulders. As she stands in line, she tugs at the jacket to straighten it.… Read More GYPSY
All my old boyfriends are
dead… Read More SHADOWS
A WELL TRAVELED HEART 