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Painting by Zdzisław Beksiński

“Those who do not weep, do not see.”*
Blooms beget bombs,
hope and horror in one vignette of existence
and the next
and the next
our little cherubs grow up to detonate
affix credit scores to souls and kill for food
the film reel revolves and I watch dry-eyed paralyzed Read More

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Salome 

My sweet second daughter at three months old.

Poui blooms, bells baptize

Baby’s eyes glacéed sheen of Read More

Labor


I was inspired while reading the chapter on motherhood, and apparently the baby in the womb was too, for after fifteen days past her estimated due date — as I tried intense mountain hiking, bumpy 4-wheel-driving over Engineer Pass, dancing my pregnant booty off to saloon ragtime, cooking with Himalayan chili peppers, an all-night full-moon vigil Read More

My Most Grievous Fault


At her funeral little was spoken but, “She was like many leaders, so self-fulfilling as if they were their own prophecies.” They learned not to romanticize or euphemize her legacy, which turned out “the best thing about her legacy,” their children would say years later. The youngest ones wouldn’t even remember the pivotal day their predecessors stopped deceiving themselves in the whirlwind of matter and things that don’t. When their own leaders stopped progressing time forward and began following light deep.

Her name: Read More

Realize

Holding my daughter

I read to you, my Baby In The Womb, your first book. It was Annie Dillard’s Holy the Firm. You may say I have great expectations for you, but really hardly less than the Lord your Father’s for you, Little One. You will learn this early on — and perhaps you already know (but most of us forget amidst the flashes and specks of this disco-ball world) — that God is perfect and so must be his Word. Therefore, the individual letters of the alphabet, or characters, are inherently essential and truth-giving: Read More