On the sidewalk, I place the books and my purse in my bicycle basket. I take my small key and unlock my old blue bike from the tree where it leans. I sit on the seat and ride for home and as if my pockets are full of hummingbird feathers, I feel the warmth of my paper asylum fall from me to the wind.
Monday, October 28, 2013
My Paper Asylum
On the sidewalk, I place the books and my purse in my bicycle basket. I take my small key and unlock my old blue bike from the tree where it leans. I sit on the seat and ride for home and as if my pockets are full of hummingbird feathers, I feel the warmth of my paper asylum fall from me to the wind.
A Wise Friend
A wise friend is akin to a book of old wisdom. A book of bone and soul and skin. A book that breathes and speaks and eats. A book with a so...
-
I want you to be free someone who is heard and seen a child who is free. I want you to feel to move through every emotion witnessing your...
-
In my denim skirt, floral blouse and old olive-green flats, I sit beside Scott in a small glass bank office. We are applying for our first...
-
You have it again. That sudden shame. Those words spinning like a rusty roundabout inside the playground of your skull. This brain activity...