contemplation
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Write or die?
Haven’t written in a long time. Feel like I’m being strangled by self doubt. Doesn’t help that i have a family who believes fighting is life. Reading Plath whose single-minded goal is something I envy. I dont have any goals other than surviving in a greedy society that traps the workers into a never ending… Continue reading
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I am wasting time. Flat out sick the last week contemplating my life for now I’m forced to. There is nothing to distract me from it now. I have friends who are not friends but opportunists, and there will never be anything else with them except for what we can mutually take from one another.… Continue reading
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Blue water
long missed always the sounds low and longing calls of gulls circling high overhead steady crunching beneath my feet a faint roar. drawing closer to the slate blue haze more distinct now honking of geese moving slowly across the sand as night drifts in it’s louder now, the water, leaping and lunging curling up and… Continue reading
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time
I have no time, she says, pouring water for dishes in the sink years of time washing over her flitting memory-movies in her brain Gone like water. Time weighed on Sylvia Plath and washing dishes she knows what that feels like knows the feeling of heads in ovens knows the almost relief of vacations to… Continue reading
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spirit and decline
beautiful, like the northern lights not long for this world, weaving and undulating in the night we danced each moment a memory as the realest things are, pouring through my fingers liquid fire and ice a light in the darkness, a candle flickering, green and yellow wanagi wacipi I would follow the lighted pathway, if… Continue reading
About Me
poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide
Diary of an American 