Look Inside

By on Jul 23, 2014 in art, collage, poetry

I’m in the midst of an intensive de-cluttering . This in itself has turned into a deep spiritual process. Sometimes excruciating. Sometimes exhilarating. Inadvertently, by virtue of going through certain papers and photographs and lots of old letters, I seem to also be doing a life review, particularly of the last 10 years. And in this context it feels good to let go of what no longer fits. In this post, one of my new collages and a passage from Meister Eckhart, a mystic from medieval times, sent to me by a friend who physically mailed me his good words, which I can now say I have read and am placing, with gratitude, in the recycle bin. “When you are about to begin a new life or work, go to God and ask with all your might and devotion that he will make it turn out for the best, as it seems most agreeable and fitting to him and be sure you are not thinking of your own...


By on Jul 16, 2014 in Poems

Alchemy   Three days in a row eating cake. Lemon Balm Devil’s Food Pineapple Upside Down For thirty days prior to this total breakdown of willpower - No Cake.   I’ve given up marriage, given up working even, to write poetry.   Is this force that makes a poem the same congealed lightning that makes a cake rise up and become something beautiful?   What if my husband when he was my husband is right?   What if by leaving him I will slide via my own utter ineptitude back into bohemian degradation, slide permanently out of the comfort of middle class and die without health insurance car insurance and a 401K?   And separate from him. What if the voice in my head that says I will never, ever, ever again have sex with a reasonable & willing human is right?   Train goes by. The air in here is filled with the smell of sugar caramelizing. Sugar and water...

How To Coax The Soul

By on May 16, 2014 in Poems

How To Coax The Soul Out Of The Words That Want To Become A Poem   With your full presence practice, practice being in the moment the way you are with your lover when your blood is two or three glasses full of the wine you’d been saving until you found each other. Swallow the moon whole as it rises. Hold the unending miles of moon in your body do not quake            like the birch and aspen do not stammer           like the young son of your friend who is already afraid of language. Know the words as this light, your body the lantern that was born to house it. Let yourself be held by the mystery of the moon’s opal fire. Do not be afraid for how long it takes you. Do not be afraid for your eyes to turn into coals. Do not be afraid of waiting. Or that your lover will wake or that he will leave you. Smell the enormous perfume of the white peonies in cool water on the bedside table...

How to Love a Phoenix

By on May 16, 2014 in Poems

How to Love a Phoenix   In Paris in winter there were women with flame red hair and pointy shoes. Their click clack chased me all through the light filled alleys their flames followed me as I rode the metro. Quietly. I bought feathers iridescent and jewel toned: flame, emerald, turquoise light trapped in jars and lined up on wooden shelves. At night I ate their colors and dreamed of a thousand colors and this beauty lifting off me like birds like love illuminating all the dark places I want to whisper their story          into your right ear I am whispering it now. These dark places form words: a smoldering, soft bird made of glowing embers and ash.   I’m asking you   to be gentle with this   hold it   as you should hold me   in a nest made of mist and light.   Then take notes.   This is the way to love: with open hands and an open, aching...

Yes, This Is The Way Dreams Get Built

By on May 4, 2014 in Poems

Yes, This Is The Way Dreams Get Built   This evening I sit at the typewriter, oh the blessed cursed typewriter where I am trying to make poems appear out of thin air. Ah, the dry, dismal trying of it. I am buzzed from an afternoon of drinking smoky oolong tea. I am full from eating too many almond cookies. Tonight trying to write is like facing my fear of swimming. Every attempt is an attempt to transgress the grip of the reptile mind. I am holding steady but reptile mind has grown into a steamy jungle. It is green, so verdant in this place where it lives. One could be easily captivated and never get out. Swimming should be like it is for the babies who are in the pool at the same time that I have my morning lesson. A loving, gradual acquaintanceship that leads one day to a full blown romance. Safe, safe. These mornings when I am in the warm, shallow pool with so many of them and...

t h a w t

By on May 4, 2014 in art, books and publishing

Mike Koppa of the Heavy Duty Press kindly invited me to partake in his project which, if I am remembering it correctly, began as something he called Slowbook, after he quit, for a time, Facebook. He invited several other artists as well, from all over the world, and sent each of us prompts via that old fashioned method of communicating: snail mail. I never was very clear about what I was being prompted to do – and now you can see this (my lack of clarity!) documented in his book Thawt, a compilation of correspondence he had with all of us artists. Mike lives in Wisconsin. He makes a lot of fantastic collage art. He is a handy family man who fixes things and digs things out of the raw earth. He is brave and persistent. He holds the ground for traditional mediums (like letterpress printing) while simultaneously breaking ground in new mediums (like self-publishing and digital...

Ocean Light

By on Apr 17, 2014 in los angeles


By on Apr 4, 2014 in Uncategorized


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