the bruised fruit sings to the bee (rose)

Inspiration spills from everywhere. From dust lingering on a diary and frost burned ice cream. For Rose, it bordered on the mundane turned even more mundane, then turned beautiful. Because it was first deconstructed, stripped of ego, honor, label—it had to have taken its last shuddering breath—it was then hers to use. Which was unfortunate,…

maladaptive daydreaming (ouroboros).

A “sentry” is, by definition, a specific type of solider: one stationed to stand guard and protect a place, thing, or person. To prevent trespassing by the unauthorized, halt acts of destruction, that sort of thing. Phil Collins as sentry of the underworld, or your heart? Same diff. Your heart an enormous black cavern glittering…

morning pages (relax).

Morning Pages is a healthy practice, I hear. Writing down what your mind regurgitates first thing in the morning helps clear it of those thoughts so you can get on with your day, rid of them. I don’t understand how writing down clingy torments helps cast them out. They like to live in an amorphous…

the clay court.

the clay court I see a bird’s eye view, kind of like the cover of The Handmaid’s Tale, but with a stiff awkward queen and her ladies in waiting, all made of dusty brittle brown clay. They scuttle about on tiny pointy feet, glass marble words disgorging from unripe mouths. The Queen points at something,…

good friday.

It’s Good Friday. Outside, it is mild and bright, a rare April jewel. I’ve seen many Good Fridays: some sunny, searingly hot; some so muggy it’s like walking through the womb. Some cold, dreary, gray, rainy; at times, there was even snow. As a kid, I felt special—I could take an extra Friday off scot-free thanks to…

she jumped.

When Persephone stands on that hill she witnesses a lot of things. Bright red cardinals sift through branches still bare, stark against the white sky. Under her feet crushed wildflowers, early blooms, unwillingly release their scent. Dramatic, like a last breath, when it’s really a first. A woven basket dangles from her pale, polished arm:…

april.

Is it plebeian to want to not love The Waste Land, is it a flip from how relevant one must have felt to be in the know, at that time, at that when? He wrote it in 1922—almost a century ago—and misspelled “cruelest.” It feels opposite. It feels plebeian to let myself feel plebeian about…

anaïs nin – introduction.

I first read the diaries of Anaïs Nin at a young age; not inappropriately young, but at a definite, easily pinpointed and impressionable time in my life. I was maybe twenty or twenty-one, in a serious relationship (in fact, my very first relationship). I was writing a lot, trying to walk an artist’s path. This is…

cheez-its, a love letter

I am critical of a lot of things. Give me a topic and I can probably find something that needs improving. With one exception. Cheez-Its. Cheez-Its are baked cheese crackers packaged in a sturdy red box. Each orange square has ridged edges and a tiny hole in the center, with the middle being just a teensy amount thicker than the tapered edges….

the flip side

Stark black branches hold fast while the leaves rustle in their soft rebellion. The trees are ordinary in both size and shape, and I assume variety—it’s too dark to tell. They’re backlit though, the once benignly beautiful growths now looming overhead, dripping with detached menace. It’s a reverse corona and I see it everywhere. It’s…

tribute.

A Tenacious D song led me on a ferocious mental journey about the artistic process. If that sentence makes your lip curl in distaste, move along. The song is called “Tribute,” and it begins with a bold declaration: “This is the greatest and best song in the world…Tribute.” “Tribute” goes on to disprove this attestation,…

reverse idiocracy

So, we’ve all seen a microwave. Many I have owned (or gazed upon) have been outfitted with a variety of helpful buttons to lessen the stress of figuring out the correlation between the food you want to reheat and the time it will take to do so. If you find it difficult to understand the…