The heat, the blessed sun. Let this much be mine. The morning dew, the cobwebs, the yellowing leaves. My breath, my wrinkled skin, my shaky
For me, the center of my house was the kitchen. At first our kitchen was this dreadful afterthought of a growth hung onto the side
A book of healing. A book of sensibility. A book that explains how our earth got so crazy. The book I want to read that
I wish words would fly by me like butterflies and land softly on my page. I wish words would tap me on the shoulder and
I am from the asphalt in my knees when I fell off my bike and also from rice krispie treats and Hawaiian punch at Bible
There is a pot on the stove, steam rising. A dry smell emits itself and the children ask, “What’s for dinner?” Potatoes and Chicken. Potatoes
I think it’s brave that you go to Whole Foods even though you might run into someone you know and have an awkward conversation about
Where I am from (I really wish I had more photos–working on it) I am from the Hackensack River and its tributary, the creek which
Hush Child and listen (rough draft) You don’t listen enough and sometimes you listen too much so that you are underlistening and sometimes overlistening–what is
1974 Vacation Remember when family holidays were the coolest thing ever? Most likely this was before you turned thirteen, and still liked your parents at
Why I write I write because my silence is painful. I write because truth is better than lies. I write because there is so much
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