as told to Langston… Long long ago in the moment between the void and the earth’s formation, a battle brewed among the stars. Every star wanted to be ‘the‘ star. It was whispered among the stars, that to be ‘the’ star meant power. Power to warm planets. Power to give life. Power to grow living…
Category: Prose
write what you wish to write…whether it matters for ages or only for hours
For mother’s day I gifted myself a writing desk. Armed with a $100 budget, I made the trek down to the local Ikea. With change left over for an ice cream treat, I purchased a desk, chair and lovely laptop caddy. I returned home and cleaned out a corner I’ve never known what to do…
road trip reflections – repaired
stretching a dime is one thing / creating one out of thin air / another luckily she believes in / miracles and sometimes / magic sailing into mountains / on thin air / and prayer i truly don’t know what i was thinking, packing up a newly turned 5 year old in me ole station wagon for a cross country tour…
divorce, a work
there are sadnesses here full bellied heavy they drag the ground holding me in places departed decades ago unsheathed sorrow runs into the very pores of things requiring oxygen’s exhalation and i find clogging where flowers once bloomed with abandon joys abound in laughing sounds heard across thresholds he is singing and a random beat…
it’s 11:51 pm Saturday, do you know where your children (read priorities) are
i am considering all the facebook twitter and blogs posted which stated things like our hearts and prayers go to the families of the victims of theatre 9. i am considering these posts along with the news interviews and breaking developments that have been shown again and again and again and i am wondering how…
Things that Cannot Be Undone
“I can’t do this.” He is driving the car. In the passenger seat, she turns and notices he has begun to cry. “What? What can’t you do?” Her hand is steady but her heart beats faster. “I just can’t do this…” he is shaking. “Pull over.” She looks out the window searching for a spot…
a writer comes of age
…it means you are a slave to the words bursting forth from your mind… 7 years old / what do you want to be when you grow up, he asked me. a writer, i answered. 8 years old / i sit for hours my legs cross eagle and numb, pencil in hand diligently scribbling on…
19 months later nightmares revealed (when you make a promise you have to keep it)
Beginning / It is 2 am. His palms are sweating clutching at my hands. He is crying into my shoulder. A mousetrap sits directly behind him and I keep holding him so that he won’t set it off. I am determined not to be afraid. “What did you say bitch!” We hear the screams. We jump…
Flying Lessons
Sidewalks sizzle after the rain. Everything everywhere glows in a magnificent haze the air so thick deep inhalation an improbability. She sits prompted up on his shoulders, afraid. He keeps promising that she won’t fall that no matter how much she may need to wiggle he will always hold on. Instinctively, she does not believe…
Preservation
Reluctantly, she answered the phone. “Hello?” he asks expectantly. “Hi,” she is calm and he sighs with relief. “What are you up to tonight?” He already knows the answer to his question but asks it anyway. “Nothing. I have no plans tonight,” she wants to leave it at that, to just continue along with her…
fearfree living 