Dream Journal, February 14, 2005

I had another dream last night that I don’t remember quite as well.  What I do remember is that I was with a group of children of all ages.  We were on some sort of a mission, with a group of people  coming after us.  Our resources had been stretched to the max and the bad guys were hot on our heels, but I was doing my best to feed everyone and to make sure everyone had warm clothes to wear, even if what we had to eat and wear wasn't ideal.  Some of the kids were scared but while we were grim we were pretty determined.  We knew we had to succeed or it would be disastrous.  We weren't panicked—just on high alert, and trying to strategize our next move.  I felt serious but calm and sort of self-assured, like I would take care of these kids.  We weren't going to surrender.

Keep walking

Journal entry, February 26, 2006

I think of the stories I wanted to tell, and yet keep coming back to the story I most wanted to forget.

Old grocery lists reflect a past I must remember.

I think of a time and a place full of forever.

A narrow hope

Biography of a Girl, 2000

No, it is my mother who, I think, had the most profound impact on me.  At once an amazingly brilliant goddess of sorts, only to morph in an instant into the most destructive force I have ever encountered.  She is someone you love because you know she is special; and she is someone you hate because she let the ugliness suffocate almost everything good inside of her.

Doodles of the disturbed mind

Poetry Journal, 1999

Because
this is your sickness
infecting all of my awareness
triumph is for dreamers
I cannot sleep another second

Tell me how it feels to
kill what is precious
Tell me your stories, they
make me senseless