What can YOU say in six sentences?
So the problem was that I got all mixed up with with Jung's clear or smoky mirrors, being the change you want to see in the world, offering Richo's five As out into the universe, and striving to be part of the sisterhood/clan, and I totally forgot that deep inside me, paying close attention to nuances, smelling the scat left by others, ears pricked and eyes seeing into the dark, is a primative, divine, feminine instinct.
This wildish instinct is alive and well because in my…
My mother's e-mails always end with references to the prodigal son, the way he was welcomed back by the father even after he squandered all of his inheritance, after he insulted his family by not honoring all that they stood for, after he broke his mother's heart thoughtlessly.
Last night I hit ctrl-S with 73,066 words in the file, this new novel that is lighting up my world and filling my head full of silly string and possibly is helping me squander my days on something without…
Coming up from sleep, she is a sealed envelope, the narrow entrance to her cave brushed over and hidden and inpenetrable, hairy vines barring the way, a slot canyon with moisture way down deep.
Her dreams are full of secrets, of little tongues of fire, of private proclivities that make her blush when she thinks of them in the daytime, when she opens the drawer beside the bed and rakes the vials of precious oils inside.
Her biggest fear, of course, is that the…Continue
Blake barely caught the bus back to Salt Lake even though he didn't mean to stay out all night long, had truly meant to catch a few hours sleep, but he got caught up in the flow, in the jam session, in the idea of breakfast after mid-night and that last nightcap.
He only had time to dash into his room, stuff all of his clothes into the duffle…
Have you ever seen a towhee--no, have you ever known a towhee, one sitting on an oak branch--no, sitting on a wad of snow still perched solidly on the oak branch--nothing soft or fluffy left after five days of little melt and lots of cold?
Have you ever really looked at him, spent time with him, this towhee, the one who waits for the sun to shine just right so he can flash his redbrown eye at you from the depths of his black hood?
It won't do to look at a picture of…Continue
You shovelled a path while the foot-plus-inches was still soft and rested lightly on the ground, though no one asked the trees as they bent down low, patient, supple, waiting.
You shovelled a path from house to offices, a now-chuted commute, funelling us away from windowsill-blooming bulbs, hot-wood glow, coffee-scented table piled with books and folded-open magazines, my empty juice glass.
We make the move with the expected dog treats, refreshed coffee mugs, a clutch of…Continue
We lost Punkin this fall, never found where she went off to spend her final hours, just one of the old mares in retirment, the free pasture and ocassional hay a gold watch for time well given, many jobs well done, many miles of trail and rock traversed.
She didn't die until after she met, BB, Penny's foal, a blessed accident of time and place.…
For the past two years we've spent 98% of our time together, often just the two of us for six to eight days at a time, no outside conversation, no other stimulation, and our offices are right next door, 45 minutes from a town.
Today he put the old mare down, a bullet through her head, while I was taking an outing, going to town for nonsense items on…Continue
I like to make stew... chop up vegetables, rummage for canned goods with my head stuck in the pantry, brown whatever meat is thawed or almost, decide for or against rice, pasta, beans... but whatever happens, call it stew, and somebody should make some cornbread.
Today my ingredients are different, are harder to blend together: a pink arrowhead, a decanter of expensive scotch glowing softly in a deserted study, an old black man with encroaching diabetes, a stamped leather keychain…Continue