It’s funny, the things we think are important when we’re young. Good grades, beautiful place to live, a job that makes us happy. Fulfillment. I can’t remember the last time I felt fulfilled. I’ve spent more days just questing to get my belly full. Out here, it’s all skeleton trees and dead farm crops, scrabbling against folks just like you, with ( Read more... )

We had all heard the stories, of course, of the black rainbow fish who lived in the lake outside of town. Our abuelas exchanged tales in hushed voices over their afternoon canelas and cafecitos, just loud enough for us to hear, although they told our exhausted parents that we had spent that hour asleep in the little cot next to the couch. By we, I ( Read more... )

Yup, I'm in. 

I was just on the verge of coming out of sleep, just barely hearing the plinking of rain against the windows, when I heard the bedroom door open and close. Toddler-sized movement across the carpet floor. Early. I hoped she just wanted a snuggle. Could've done with about three more hours of sleep after the late service at the restaurant. Pure chaos ( Read more... )

"In Your Dreams"

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Be gentle.

Let the dough slide through your hands.

Let your hands be grease-marked and slippery

Fish, gliding.

Punch the dough down, not too hard.

Massage your love into it,

your want, your longing.

Listen - what does it want?

Wet your fingers under the tap,

let the droplets dance across the craggy bundle.

Not too much.

You can always add ( Read more... )

Getting back in the Idol game! 

When I was a child, loose boned and dirt streaked, my mother told me that the wolves would come. When I was older, cattywampus and mooning, the first blood appeared between my legs. She said then, the wolves have arrived. Sent me out, into the winterfrosted woods with furs and a silken-sharp dagger, to meet the wolves that lived deep in me. Come ( Read more... )

The tinkling of the bell through the mid morning silence makes me startle. I drop the bag of genmaicha I'm weighing out. Half the bag spills out onto the tiled floor, and I curse under my breath. A Teakeeper shouldn't be so careless with such a delicate blend, but I'll just have to make my apologies later with the gentlest of broom sweeps. For now ( Read more... )

Boots crunching through leaves,

a cathedral golden lit,

branches in chorus.

Perpetual change

is the sermon of the day

as I contemplate.

Autumn's cape grows.

The scent of incense rises.

Burdens lift from me.

I emerge later:

Nature's church will wait for me

until next Sunday.