Routine

I sip on tendrils of light between the shadows, scouring this land for more to gulp Each tendril–a tiny pill of sweet sweet warmth that I take nightly always at the same time Cause it only works if I stick to the same routine

Blurred Line

With a bruised thumb and index finger I draw a line—thin— in hopes that it will widen, between you and me. But it’s dotted, at first it lets in a slight draft, a tiny storm—here and there So I go back to the store to buy more sealant to close those holes and keep me… More Blurred Line

“The Real Revolution is the Evolution of the Mind”–Public Enemy

My first memory of scarves is of a dupatta that you wear around your neck over a salvar or chudidar.  I loved wearing them and was only allowed to wear them on special occasions for my mother feared I would lose it–even though I begged to wear them daily.  Mostly I wore dupattas to church… More “The Real Revolution is the Evolution of the Mind”–Public Enemy

First

A myriad of branches spread like veins in a body– a screen door for the sky thick and thin strong and slim lines, matrices of dark brown stand independently in union against the morning dew.

Closer

Each year I get a little closer to a little better at– it. and its so easy to forget this— that this year I’ll get even closer and next year, who knows.

12

 Opposite our bay window, a foggy drizzle sprinkles the front yard it’s hard to see the house across the street the cul-de-sac sits hauntingly silent and anticipates. It’s a Wednesday, just like any other Wednesday, but it’s different too The pressure drums against my skin coercing me to form grand declarations even the squirrels stare… More 12