Abandonment
Despair
The most accurate word to describe the times we are living in is despair. There are those people who can continue without noticing the darkness inside of them. Even they are stumbling. The children are feeling despair. Very little for them to do about it. Days come and go. Rain…
Winter Garden
Winter garden Not breathing.
Two Chaise Lounges
Under the umbrella by the pool are two quilted chaise lounges, like the rollers in factories used to move small items to the next station. If you run your hand over them you will feel symmetry of each roll until you don’t. Their slope is inviting as one can see it’s the shape of a body unconscious waiting to be lifted…
I let you haunt me
In the beginning I was the one with the power. Or at least I thought I was. I had such faith in the power of the sashay of my hips that I never minded walking away. I never even had to turn around to know that you were panting after…
Words in Gardens
Garden words Stop Listen Close your eyes Feel Kiss Smell Brilliant Bring back anything good Ferns Words begin with w Mouth lips Risk it Say it Do it Be the tree’s root Fragile Temporary Contemplation Fidelity Loss Absurd There’s a garden in Scotland called “Little Sparta” and it inspired me…
Child
Integration There’s a moment when a child stops playing in her imagination as there is “Another” watching. The play become something other than sole imaginary play and is now “observed” play. The child comes out of her unconscious and is now conscious of her presence in the world .No one…
The bees outside my window
Outside my kitchen window there is a city of bees above the hydrangea bushes. The bees are like bustling helicopters whose rotor blades are very slow and synchronized with one another as if they have practiced this dance many times before. They are big bees and very fat which means…
My Birth
My mother’s father, Samuel Joseph Cawley, died three days before I was born and was buried in a paupers grave in Van Nys, California, alone and still drunk so the embalmer had it easy. My mother went into labor etherized and alone, and, hearing “ it’s a girl”, sighed into…
“The Red Kerchief” Claud Monet
I wanted him to notice me. It wasn’t that difficult to see what I wanted. In winter he stayed inside all the time. Painting. He was. All the time. Winter, always a danger to everyone, young and old. No freedom in winter. Too much freedom for him. I wandered by…
Loading…
Something went wrong. Please refresh the page and/or try again.