October 31, 2019

I am apparently a witch.

Voodoo mom, my children call me.

Balance me, my skeptical son who pleads, by text

by phone or email.

I can’t feel my feet on the ground,

I can’t breath

I can’t see 

I can’t stand.

And in the silence in another town,

across the country

across the world.

I hold up

the faceted weight

the mysterious stone;

my amethyst,

or paperclip

on a string

and watch

for a moment 

the stealthy circle rise.

And ask the questions I have...

October 30, 2019

We must stop 

all this clamor, 

this clutter 

of virtual advice. 


This is how you do it…

bullet points. 

We may die from it.

Who are we, 

I mean really? 

So many experts? 

Pardon me 

if I pause here, 


Writers, good ones, 

have voices. 

Should they use these 

hallowed things 

always to advise? 

To opine, 

yes. Please. 

We cannot help ourselves, 

but this frantic race 

to tell each other how. 

Please, please, 

let it stop. 

For t...

September 20, 2019

It’s so tempting to think of a body as an adversary, it ages, sags, eats too much, exercises too little, and wants what it shouldn’t have. At best its a neutral something you get to ignore until it falls sick and possibly even dies. That’s when the illusion is over.

This morning I dragged my adversarial jailer to the mat. Yoga is another one of those things I highly recommend to anyone other than myself. My body is this awk...

September 18, 2019

It is possible

To lie beneath

The bed

Of your beloved

Amid the mites

And dust and dark

Straining to watch

The stillness

Of the bedsprings

Chewing thoughtfully 

On biltong*

Dried and Salted

Drenched in coriander

As settlers did in wagon

Circles curved

Against the 

African night

It is possible to wait


For sounds

Beyond cicadas

Of bare feet 

On bare wood

For this face you love

With such a

Desperate first love

To appear as planned 

And yet...

August 28, 2019

It will not budge

It’s dead in the water

Silvery bloated

On the surface

Floating Lifeless

…But I love it

I love it with my eyes

And what’s behind them

The neural web of me

Slime and sublime

Inside my skin

Behind my eyes

I love it with my heart

All of its butchered 

bright redness

It’s rhythm, arrhythm, 

It’s beaten immediacy

I love it with an incapacity

To ignore

An intuition of attention

A horrible compulsion

A twisted addiction

I love it with...

August 22, 2019

The restaurant is small, easy to miss, tucked down a side street in the Latin Quarter. It has been decades since we were last in the city of lovers and Paris wears the silk sheen of spring rain. It is our last night and we’ve had more than enough time to fall in love with this place again. We are no longer 23 and we certainly aren’t backpacking this time. We have a room with slim French doors opening on a partial view of t...

August 21, 2019

Is there time for this

she asks

hands pressed together

like the wing of a prayer

really, is there time --

for this?

And you can’t see her eyes 

behind lids and lashes.

Does she really want to


If so, why the hair curl

where the shoulders

curve upwards

like a smile or a shrug.

Not to care

says her


Not really, you see.

You can’t reach me


quite frankly

I’m not in here.

More fool you--

for thinking that I was.

Art: Mario...

August 14, 2019

I will not worship language

Although I love it

It only points

It hints

Swipes at

Something it



For that I will

Be thankful


But bow before?

For then

I would miss

The real show

So don’t tell me

To revere

I will not

For then

I should mistake

What I have

Come here


Art: Maze | James Jean

August 8, 2019

It is simple.
you say many
I say one
I want to save silence
from indulgent forays
by unhumbled minds
to be a sound
one stops and
listens for
attentively as if
big words made
more sense
because they thunder
in so many syllables
are thunderous
resonate shamelessly
making it well nigh
to hear
the beauty
and pure
that lies
for you
to listen.

Art: Untitled (Baby) | Zena Hol...

July 8, 2019

How dare you ask me

To feel sorry

For you

Who are

too beautiful

too thin

And so young

How dare you require my


When you have 


Big and shiny

What would I 

not do 

If I had 

All that

How dare you expect


You who are 

too clever by half

And pleased 

with it too


Demanding attention 

And getting it

Then feigning


It is impossible for me

To feel you

Through the layers

Of an I

who have nothing

I who have 



July 4, 2019

How hard it is

to be a

drama queen

and give your all

so much to


this mediocrity

the everyday

the must be done?

So focused 

must you

have to be

upon this

heaving mass

of vast exaggeration

aghast refusal 

the commitment

not to 

go gentle

into the tepid

every day

Do you know

because you have

learned it


enough to 

even the edges

smooth the hair

out of place

lift your finger

to your lips

do not cry out

in alarm

do not wear

fake lashes

to bat furiou...

June 19, 2019

Sometimes you fall in love with

Something quite 


Something with a nose

Too big

A paunch

Too far

Something inside

So dark

That when you see it

It blurs

And swallows you up

Quite thoroughly

Something challenging

That coincidentally

You can’t explain

Despite your best efforts

To those

You love

Who armed 

with no imagination

quite like your previous self

fail to comprehend

and thus lend


a certain thrill

to the union

oh yes.


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You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet."
Franz Kafka


If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. 

George Eliot

February 8, 2020

February 6, 2020

January 27, 2020

January 27, 2020

January 27, 2020

December 5, 2019

November 26, 2019

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I live in hazard and infinity. The cosmos stretches around me, meadow on meadow of galaxies, reach on reach of dark space, steppes of stars, oceanic darkness and light. There is no amenable god in it, no particular concern or particular mercy. Yet everywhere I see a living balance, a rippling of tension, an enormous yet mysterious simplicity, an endless breathing of light. And I comprehend that being is understanding that I must exist in hazard but that the whole is not in hazard. Seeing and knowing this is being conscious; accepting it is being human.

John Fowles, Aristos


“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.”

Arundhati Roy

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