Daddy has a pen
This is the poem he wrote
Now we call it, ‘Home’ Read More
Daddy has a pen
“Little Lomy Loo” turns one today and she’s wobbling around pretending she’s Janis Joplin with her deep “blues” scowl she’s had since infancy, or eating dirt or dandelions, or giving me open-mouth, ready-to-nurse kisses on my cheekbone. And believe it or not, I’m nostalgic for her unmedicated, home water birth! Here is the full story for anyone needing the inspiration or who is curious about the miracle of birth.
My May baby. As you made the conviction that you were ready to be born into this world and slip today, May 19, 2016 from eternity into this strange design of time and measures, I ate the first cherries of the season. Once again and forever, these cherries taste sweeter when I talk to God.
At around 12:45am, some cramping woke me up but I didn’t think much of it since I’d been having irregular cramping for weeks. Plus, my due date was still three days away and I’d been convinced because of Qohelet’s birth that there was no way this baby was going to play by the rules either. But after about an hour of laying in the dark under almost-full moon-shine while the mild rushes came about every ten minutes or so, I asked Joshua not to go to work today. We heard Qoey stirring so while my…
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See the sun setting
And poets aren’t lamenting
It was a perfect palette, the day
What to dismiss as a petty kiss
Upon the cheek of Read More
This creation is what C.S. Lewis meant with the new Christian: The Atman. The quiet yet radiant, the contemplative yet lively. The paradox. The corporeal enigma. The truth. Read More
Reading Crime and Punishment in the dark and wet rural Chinese winter and Joshua got sick with a fever on the border town. Wanting to kill the nihilist prick, “Rodya,” I explored the streets alone and brought back a paper bowl of noodles. The inherent problem with writing is that it delineates thought and action. Can we write and free ourselves from further categorization, further erring by playing tricks that depend on the duality illusion? Read More
This is the day that completes you
With the first rays of the mighty eye
Playfully pulling you to play your prelude
Written in the last sunset’s sky Read More
The mind fragile; he crosses an ocean and all disintegrates into order.
Into her arms he goes; rip, decision, spill. Freeing the border.
The old line awakens into dance, A New One! The rhythm spins.
The beat of every blue shade. Simple: A new wor(l)d begins. Read More
I am in bloom. Full of blood, bubbling, full of life. Face aglow, I am awed by the blood vessels flowing to the womb, thickened veins and umbilical pulse. I can feel their swollen contours as they inflect upwards beneath the skin. Bulbous breasts plump with sweet amber, dripping like blackstrap molasses. Read More
At 2:30am, July 25, 2014 I found myself awake with some cramping and anxiety: about my decision try castor oil once more later that morning and that the baby still hadn’t come to us. If the baby won’t have been born by this weekend–already two weeks past her due date–it’s likely we would have to give up the idea of giving birth at home. But something had changed today. I was full of peace as I read the chapters ‘Motherhood’ and ‘Paternity’ in Fulton Sheen’s Three To Get Married. Then I noticed that the cramping was getting more intense. And more regular. I just really focused on God during each wave and thanked Him that the labor was finally beginning. I asked to be forgiven for losing trust over the past two long weeks and He answered me through holy words of his servant-priest. Read More