Love she questioned of me… I know not the feeling and what it could mean.. Love I told her,It’s easy you see if I give to you what you give to mee.. All of my thought and all of my dreams are there to be seen. But what of the times cannot agree, on just…

Can’t you see? Can’t you see? What those words have done to me? The belittling and arguing which hurt my soul, carried me almost to my dark grave….are now my ally to not take your bait. Dress it up with big shiny bows and I will still refuse to go back to what almost killed…

Spring a natural aphrodisiac. Cyclic rhythmic Kundalini. Surprised by the intensity of saturated sensations gently, slowly, exploring sacred femalia After all these years, why astonishment? It was that very British lesbian and her tribe, evoking primordial sensuality. Thoughts obsessively jump, be-tween, upon and over. Words on pages of books Patiently waiting to be savored. Ambivalence…

This is great! I can just stay home! Shit! I need to go to the market. I can put on a mask!! I should take a walk. No one has called in a while. I’m going to the market so I can have a conversation with the cashier. I just smiled at someone only they…

Grieve in your own time. Heal at your own pace. Ask your source, your angels, grandmother universe for everything you need… That it be granted with gentleness, ease and grace.

(A tribute to tribe earthmover Denise Comptois) SOMETIMES WE FEEL THE NEED TO CHANGE SPACE…MOVE OUR EARTH…..OFF WE GO, TAKING OUR SELVES AND OUR EARTH WITH US….PLACING OURSELVES, AND OUR EARTH IN A DIFFERENT LOCATION DOESNT ALWAYS MAKE A DIFFERENCE…..WE HAVE TO LOOK AT OUR EARTH, FEED IT, TEND IT, MAYBE CHANGE IT….AND WHEN WE…

As for the poem about the Earth moving the only thing that came to my mind was the song Carole King made popular I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the Stars tumbling down tumbling down and nothing ever stops whenever you’re around there’s so much to this life that we take…

Before 19 coffee was a chore. a chore of effort to speak through the detachment. Built up 3200 days. Through the curtains a dog tied to a teather. Well fed certainly, Yet stares at the window I sit , I sip, I dare to speak. Casual words. No throughts of life, ideas and plans. No…

My amazon corrugated cardboard box Has in big, bold letters “Future you says thanks” Truly at odds with what I have been learning about attachment, self and the NOW that is Presently, it is my haiku that frames my glass door 5 delicate pink blossoms With 7 magenta leaves Held by 5 slickened Black branches…

I was frightened of you before I knew you Strangers, in foreign lands But you gathered round We sang our songs About cars and lipsticks We drank coffee, had lunch Got friendly Our world just got smaller. Making Cecilia’s Irish Bread by Adrienne Parks A traditional girl of Irish heritage, herself a bread of Guinness…