Someone’s set my soul loose; I can’t get her back. She’s out there, dancing wildly, wonderfully released. Prior craziness now seems justified—those midnight escapades to the underworld, hoping (like Persephone) to be rid of earthly chores; the foolhardy fearlessness that bared its teeth at friend and foe alike: all symptoms of an overheated heart, surging upward like a volcano, spitting out sparks and toxic fumes from a core of molten energy, the creative source within. It’s

Her tiny fingers grasp my hand; dark pools of eyes follow me. The first light creeps beneath the curtains. Black curls like tendrils wind round shell-like ears with rose-pink lobes. Outside the world waits impatiently. The dew on the grass is burning off. In the distance, tongues of surf, lick lazily up the wet, smooth sand. Out at sea, white horses fret and foam. I lift my daughter gently from the cot. A tentative smile hovers on puckered lips. My hands support a strengtheni

My former lovers send me many things: old photos, art, mementoes of our lives; if we had wed, they’d give me diamond rings, but nothing of true value still survives. My former lovers praise me to the skies; say that we should’ve married, but instead, we faced the truth, which was to realize that our relationships were, frankly, dead. The Monday morning quarterbacking hurts— why grind this axe, why plow this tired row? Why keep on sending stuff in fits and spurts? Just get it

It’s better to meditate at sunrise, they say. Inhale two, three, four,  exhale two, three, four. I close  my eyes to look for my nothing...