rock me mama
Each hand on the other elbow. Heavy cotton, the only thing holding her in. Enshrouding her. She watched them go.
Read More rock me mama. . . the After Words
Each hand on the other elbow. Heavy cotton, the only thing holding her in. Enshrouding her. She watched them go.
Read More rock me mamaDeath is all around us at the present moment. Covid is taking people we know, or it is feeding fears of our own death. For me, Will is a reminder that death can be a celebration, even when the circumstances argue otherwise.
Read More In Celebration of Dying YoungTwitter has this beautiful imperfection and permanence to it; you cannot edit a tweet. So writing a story on Twitter – especially the way I write, compelled – is a particular kind of challenge in terms of awareness and seizing the flow.
Perhaps you have read my words of childhood listening? Me as a small ball on the floor, soft, red blanket methodically tucked around so as to secure myself from the wolf who was spinning on the record player as the horn section.
Read More source. . . . the realization when you look back is that you have moved forward, in both what you have accomplished and in how you have made mistakes.
Read More in tensWe knew nothing of the slow growing cancer that was also with us. And your antics spoke of the discomfort of anniversaries, of not knowing how two people could dance in a celebratory space.
Read More Big Bearded HeartMaybe having my baggage checked isn’t about putting it away, but rather opening it up to take a look-see at who it is that I am sharing . . .
Read More carry onLet’s bring death, to life.
Read More Beardo’s DaySome of us were not mean to ease through this life. Some of us are here for the reset.
Read More the burning of my bellySo I am leaving my thesis until the end of this piece, and I am hoping that you are with me as I put forward the argument that MAID is at the forefront of a revolution in healthcare.
Read More Revolution MAID