I didn’t write yesterday. I couldn’t. I stared at the screen and tried to find inspiration, but in the end, I just went and took a nap. Some days are like that, yes? Days when your well is empty and uninterested in being filled. Days when your spirit knows that the next giant wave is…
Essence like a jigsaw of tangled limbs and shadows, my erotic mind sits in pieces waiting to be assembled its valleys dip low beneath my surface, and peak beyond my sight, though the height makes me nervous at times there are moments that, like ripe, low-hanging fruit, it weighs heavy– grounding me or when it…
We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect. Anaïs Nïn I already knew that my body could feel things. I’d found myself aroused by words, furiously and guardedly reading late at night beneath the covers. I’d seen things that made parts of me twitch and pulse in response. But I didn’t…
Yesterday, the metaphor of that garden spider stuck with me all day…and grew. I thought about how garden spiders just hang out, right there in the center of their webs, fattening up through the late summer and into fall. How they start out small and bright and end up large and dark. I am nothing…
A Bold Move She’s made her web across my window, as if she knew looking out and looking in would make her world seem bigger. It was a bold move, I think, to build out in the open. Her striped legs dance across dew-sprinkled strands, her body growing larger as the heat of summer slips…
