Splash in Time My chubby thighs spill over the wooden edges of the unaccommodating desk chair as a damp handout is placed before me, the bluish mimeograph ink smudging my index finger as I trace the thick arrows from cloud past raindrops to earth and over mysterious waves back to sky. From the…

Shall I paw through the closet for the comfortable standbys that know my elbows and knees, my wrists and ankles, my belly and butt, the length of my spine and the span of my shoulders? Or shall I pull from the edges, the painter’s frock I haven’t worn in years…

Octavia Butler As Solstice passes, I am reminded of the assertion in Octavia Butler’s prophetic novel Parable of the Sower (Earthseed series, Book 1) that “God is Change.” In this year of significant loss and all the shifts, energies, and emotions each entailed, I offer this: Changes are cradles, mangers…

Do the hardest things first. Open your eyes. Thank the day for arriving, your heart for beating, your arm for reaching. Your dreams for hovering just above the headboard near the prayer flags you arranged to be one more comfort in the bedroom whose walls have been washed and washed…

For what am I keeping vigil? This present life, what i have been given — benefits of place and friendship and resources. The-Grand-What-Is keeps me on watch. I keep thinking it should be more complicated — require a new degree, a fresh look, an upending fruit-basket turnover, a dilemma with…

“Imagine the interlocking uninsistent tunes of drifting things.”