Sunday, September 30, 2007


My mind floats and bobs, gets caught in eddies in the stream, bumps up against a rock at the edge and attracts a discarded plastic shopping bag which clings, flapping in the water and then floats off...

Three months by the calendar. Rocks and rapids. White water swallowing the sound of my voice.

Trapped in the broken boat of my own thoughts.

Emerging. I begin to wind paper and cloth into beads. And to gather silk cocoons.

It is the start of a voice.

Monday, September 17, 2007

And the good news is

Two news stories I can live with in under three weeks. First it was the squeegee kid who gave chase when a gang of girls were beating a 65 year old woman using a table leg as a weapon. Other squeegee kids helped the woman while he ran after the girls, hollering for someone to call the police. Someone did and the girls were caught.

And this is the other story:
written by Dan Savage.

A little more of this and I'm going to get downright hopeful about the world.

Sunday, September 02, 2007