::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Friday, October 30, 2009

I'm thinking about writing a book. . . about my childhood

I am the daughter of a lawyer and a teacher. If anything, that's where I can begin.

Daddy grew up somewhere between his father's deep Baptist Tennessee farmland and his mother's inner city Cleveland, Ohio. His life, from what bits I've come by, was never easy. Mama was from Cleveland too-- the eleventh child of a poor Catholic family that had their beliefs, if nothing else. Her family lived in the apartment above her Grandfather's grocery store.

They first met in Cleveland. She was eight, he was nine, and he had sic'd his dog on her. Later on they shared the same circle of friends, and though I'm not sure the version I've heard is entirely true, they ended up together in the end regardless.

I came along as the first lovechild of theirs, added to their shared brood of one son and one daughter. I was the law school baby. And when I came on a sunny June day they took me home, set me on the picnic table in the back yard and wondered what to do next. While they were pondering away, I had plans brewing. By the time I was one year old I had earned myself a reputation-- I would only sleep outside in the cool night air and I would eat anything I could get my hands on.
A year later I was joined by my younger sister, Krista. I let her know who was boss the very first day, sinking my three or four new teeth into her newborn arm. The competition has never ended. Kyle arrived, after much anticipation, in the fourth year of my life. They are now the most important people in my life
I recall lazy summer afternoons lying in the grass, watching the sky change from blue to pink to a darker blue and waiting for the lightning bugs to come out. Sometimes, just as it was getting to be time for bed a summer thunderstorm would roll in over the horizon and we would sit, the five of us, on the front porch and watch it coming. Counting the seconds between the loud thunderclap and the distant flash of lightning, calm and happy.
Vinegar and Honey
Life wasn't always sweet at home. Sometimes we would fight for weeks, but not without reason, without cause. There was no arguing simply for argument's sake. And in the end, the one message that I've learned is that we must love each other, before ourselves. Selfishness, spite, are the most basic forms of abuse. In the moments when we do not think of others, we can only be thinking of ourselves.


in the deep black night she wakes, afraid, 
calls your name to know you're safe 
and realizes that behind the dreams 
she knew that you would be there, too. 
in the deep black night, where demons dwell
she grasps your hand and conquers hell
then fills her heart with all her love,
hands it to you with silver gloves 
for safekeeping.  

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


these dreams these dreams
that wake me in a cold sweat in darkness
these dreams these dreams
that leave me shaking alone in darkness
these dreams these dreams
that find me screaming out in darkness

are endless.

where does the soul find this torture?
when does the soul find peace?
how does the soul keep going
when its followed by these dreams these dreams?

for love's sake man,
can't you see I'm being eaten alive here? eaten alive.
for love's sake man,
can't you see I'm terrified here? terrified?
for love's sake man,
don't leave me alone now, don't leave me alone.

and that man in the corner, he's not really there
I know, man, I KNOW, but still, he stares and stares
and that girl in the bath, oh I know she's not real,
but she'll still tell me how worthless she feels

stay here awhile, please, so I can get some sleep,
stay here awhile, please, so I can get some peace

and when I wake up I'll see you here and know that
I'm ok, man, I'm ok.
cause you granted me asylum- for a few hours today.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

down down down

water flows
down down down
into the shallow blue of My lake.

from the hills where the glacier died,
across the gentle slope of land,
through the slowly flowing wetlands,
in sparkling webs,

water flows.

down down down
into the shallow blue of My lake.

where once the emerald forests stood entwined
a people lived and grew,
building cities, harsh with brick and stone,
until the forests I once knew
were burned away to wasteland.


water flows down into the shallow blue of My lake.

Friday, October 9, 2009


october winds whip around her figure,
standing naked, barefoot in the field beside the house.

october raindrops fall on her skin,
shivering, pale against the night.

he walks out to wrap her in a blanket,
standing side by side they look into the lasting dark
wondering what lies just out of sight.

october night envelops two figures,
clinging, desperate in the night.

october morning brings gentle sun,
waking two figures, slowly.

Thursday, October 8, 2009


She downed that whiskey with a vengeance, hoping to wash away the absolute fury that left her shaking in the dark as you walked away.

hit me.

Somehow this poison might relieve the sting from the all too fresh wound.
She sat alone, now, staring at the next shot, still shaking as her own words echoed in her mind.

Ashamed at the truth the barkeep whispered as he poured the poison again.

"You're too pretty to be so sad."

hit me.

He touched her shoulder as if afraid she'd shatter, and she did.
He pulled her close and she let silent tears fall, her face without expression.
Grateful for a friend she knew, she fell back and let him drive--safe, finally, she let down that stony guard.

And he took her hand and held it in the dark.