crossroad, a blues?

there are all these words floating around in my head hard words / soft words words i don’t want to dance with or chitchat about words that fill me with angst and dread words that block and stifling are reminiscent of rifles sprouting off in parking lots near city skyways where babies are arranged in sandboxes…

pocket therapy, part i

function in this life as a fully evolved being wrap yourself in the warmth of your own love dance without music laugh before the joke is told eat cookies hot out the oven let the lines of your face reflect more smiles than tears grieve openly and without regret walk willingly through mud without shoes and place dandelions…

i have decided to go on

this blog has been such a wonderful exercise for me. when i began i had no idea that the world of blogging was in fact a world. i count myself among the fortunate to have discovered and been embraced by bloggers the world over. this week i have been sitting with the idea of ending…

why cry when you can rumba

if only i’d known dancing was a choice i’d have shaken my shimmie waltzing myself out more doors than you could count i would have salsa-ed and fox trotted till my toes bleed instead i’ve held  up wallpaper and maintained cushions i’ve twirled on office chairs and scooted my way down corridors to tones made up…

i wanna dance like the blues

I wanna dance like the blues Slo and determined Stumping the funk out Like what’s past us over And tomorrow a prospect so distant it ain’t worth my time   I wanna dance like the blues Fill myself up with longing So intense it comes out in groans Gyrating till dawn I groove I move…

gratitude i

there is joy in his giggle unmitigated happiness in his uncanny ability to transform an ordinary couch cushion to juggle gym to slide to trampoline   ‘mommy’ takes on a new edge when shrieked from a crib is this the love that ‘knows no bounds’ don’t know only the texture of his oatmeal is important…

Secret Sharer helps Save the Day

  Sonji had known she was different since before she could walk. Only her very best friend in the whole wide world Francis knew her secret. Sonji was a sharer. Telling anyone outside of Francis would have been a death sentence. Her mother would probably have preferred if Sonji had told her she was a…

yep…

its the kind of day a hot shower can’t solve the kind of day when even after everyone is settled the house still feels loud its the kind of day when your mind races at maximum speed but your limbs seem to be locked in slow motion its that day when staying in bed is…

I just want to testify (press play then read)

sometimes you just won’t understand why life is the way it is i began this journey to reignite in me something i believed long gone…my muse. i thought in the midst of so many disappearing acts over the course of the last decade i had grown numb or deaf to the creative force that once…