change is the most fascinating of all phenomena

did a late summer cleaning.

always start with the surface. sweeping all the dust out from under my bed reminds me how dirty the air is living so close to the BQE. although, all 7 apartments where i’ve lived in NYC have gotten really dirty really quickly. the air here is dirty.

i came across an “autobiography” that i wrote in my Life Stories class senior year at Elon. my immediate reaction was, not much has changed. how could that be? so much has changed. my voice has definitely changed drastically for starters. my friends have changed, my circle has changed. in some ways nothing has changed at all. how can that be?

the most gradual change rests in the deepest depths. the karmic lessons. maybe that’s why the only lasting change must come from within. in some ways i feel like i’m still inside of the cocoon. no matter how deep i go, there’s always another layer to peel. i feel love, joy, and gratitude for the friends who have been/are present on the journey.

from a writing prompt, what i want:

what i want…i want to be happy.

i want a job i love.

i want enthusiasm and energy.

i want to never lose my mind.

i want a perfect boy.

i want to give,

to contribute,

somehow make a difference.

i want my dreams to never end.

i want to be tan

and i want to be healthy.

i want to conquer.

i want to read more books.

i want my parents to be happy.

i want to think about others.

i want to live in Spain.

i want to travel.

i want to go to South America.

i want the earth to be clean.

the craziness to end,

the suburbs to explode.

i want to make art,

and i want to make money.

i want to learn how to blow glass.

i want to use public transportation.

i want the days to be warm and sunny.

i want to see frogs fall from the sky.

i want to eat good food.

i want to not lose touch with my friends.


maybe someday kids,

a dog,

and a cat.

i want to play.

i want to feel,

want to be,

want to want.

i want to be successful,

good things for other people.

i want to see the leaves change in the fall.

i want to swim in the Mediterranean.

i want a Picasso original.

i want to meet someone i love.

i want to run through a field

of wildflowers

and tumble down

a grassy knoll.

i want others to have good thoughts of me.

i want to look at the stars

through a telescope.

may 2001.


prague sounds lovely

i said prague sounds lovely, he said let’s go.

i didn’t say are you having a midlife crisis. i didn’t say

are you on a path of self destruction. i said

hah! i wanted to say when.

i said you’re a ginormous tease.

he said if you want to know what a tease is, read the book i just read:

dh lawrence’s sons and lovers.

she said i say go

she said prague is my favorite EURO city.

she said it’s romantic, haunted, and you’ll love it.

i said he wasn’t serious.

she said buuuumMer dude!

he said maybe you should be talking to a more serious fella. just sayin.

it used to be

it used to be

when i thought of you

i smiled,



words i used to describe you:










just the right fit,

[you were]

like a favorite pair of jeans.


now everything has changed.


when i think of you,

no smile at all.


words i use to describe you:



idealistic and narcissistic to a fault.



afraid of being vulnerable–

afraid of life, three parts dead.

[you are]

a pair of jeans

with holes in all the wrong places,

not worth patching.








umeboshi plums dancing around in my head

umeboshi plums dancing

around in my head

two cats purring like ewoks

lounge around on rugs.

in the lily pond

frogs jump and croak

borage, tulsi, calendula grow

mint leaves wait to steep

beautiful garden

weeds to pull

flowers bloom for buzzing bees


white fish, seaweed,

and chickpeas

cucumbers and tomatoes

garden greens

cornmeal crusted tofu

beets and goat cheese

mary oliver

i know it’s a bit early for christmas lists and a bit late for birthday wishes…but here are some books on my wish list.

mary oliver.  (twelve moons; dream work; house of light.)  i love this poem, but haven’t found it yet in any of her collections.  i love the last three lines.

worm moon.

In March the earth remembers its own name.
Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking.
The rivers begin to sing.  In the sky
the winter stars are sliding away; new stars
appear as, later, small blades of grain
will shine in the dark fields.
And the name of every place
is joyful.

The season of curiosity is everlasting
and the hour for adventure never ends,
but tonight
even the men who walked upon the moon
are lying content
by open windows
where the winds are sweeping over the fields,
over water,
over the naked earth
into villages, and lonely country houses, and the vast cities

because it is spring;
because once more the moon and the earth are eloping –
a love match that will bring forth fantastic children
who will learn to stand, walk, and finally run over the surface
of earth; who will believe, for years,
that everything is possible.

Born of clay,
how shall a man be holy;
born of water,
how shall a man visit the stars;
born of the seasons,
how shall a man live forever?

the child of the red-spotted newt, the eft,
will enter his life from the tiny egg.
on his delicate legs
he will run through the valleys of moss
down to the leaf mold by the streams,
where lately white snow lay upon the earth
like a deep and lustrous blanket
of moon-fire,

and probably
is possible.