Welcome to my corner of the world. I'm so glad you're here. Join me in a conversation about how we build a bridge between daily life and the life we're longing for. As you explore, you'll discover stories, some of my favorite things, a whole lot of love, and perhaps even join me in a little lip syncing. Learn more about me right here.
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Bowls of heart pocket talismans have been gathering in the studio filled with the words and phrases kindred spirits are holding close this year. What is your word? You can find the talismans right here.
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remember when they have to figure out how to fit something square in something round to make a filter to fix the need for oxygen in apollo 13?
it's kinda like that.
poem notes, postcard poetry {front}
{back}
scuffed dusty thirst
twirling singing wind
water-fed growing green
quiet wide history
lumpy twisting path
squeaking unseen hunger
constant still beliefs
poem notes, postcard poetry {front}
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she whispers in the green and the wind and the rippling, tinkling water. she whispers to remind me of her true voice.
she whispers in the background of the words spoken by another. she whispers to help me see that all is at it should be.
she whispers in the whirring as the pedal is pushed to the floor and the fabric moves with each stitch. she whispers to remind me who i am.
she whispers as i look out at the purple, full, encompassing clouds above the mountains. she whispers to help me see who i want to be.
poem notes, postcard poetry Front:
The reaching, soaring Lake Michigan-grey wing of a great blue heron.
Back:
I am pirouetting in midair
I am stillness within the light
I am the harbor of spirit
I am folded into darkness
I am beyond what is known
I am strength
I am wind
I am fragile
I am unburdened
. i series ., poem notes, postcard poetry Front:
A landscape of snow-filled rows in fields that once held corn and soybeans surrounded by woods full of naked, brown trees with a highway running through it. The setting of the winters of my childhood.
Back:
"I come from / a tiptoeing, still, winter home." A line from a poem I wrote almost a year ago…I have walked back into that line as I traveled by plane and car and foot to all that I used to know. Walking down the roads that led to patterns invites an awareness to why the patterns continue even on a blank page of all that can be. I have allowed the samscaras to create a rhythm that is not inward resonance, but instead has pushed a feeling of off-kilter that has become my life on certain days, in certain moments.
it is what it is, poem notes, postcard poetry