The white rose in tarot is shown on 2 cards of the major arcanum: the Fool and Death. The Fool follows his bliss, with the white rose of purity and innocence in his outstretched left hand. Death carries a banner emblazoned with the symbol of the white rose, signifying purification through transformation (also in his … Continue reading The White Rose of the Tarot
:: HUMAN :: Hello, Human! Hello. You are flesh and sinew and blood and bone! You are morning glory cells and serotonin and all that is ephemeral and all that is tangible in sweat and love. You are everything in life and beyond death and back around. Oh, Human! You do what you can. And … Continue reading A Reminder: You’re a Human Thing
Not another sad poem I don't want to write another Lost-in-the-night-of-my-soul, Moonlight to guide me, But the heavy's getting old, Down by the river, Numbing my feet in the water Waiting for "you'll get used to it" to come That, or hiding In the sun of my memory Kind of poem. But it's all I … Continue reading Entry, after a long while: In the empty
I've been returning to myself, lately. I recognized some time ago that I had gone very far away from who I once knew myself to be, and the lethargy, illness, and stress of being lost inside caused me to rattle the cage until I was out. I wouldn't say "free", because freedom is a state … Continue reading Entry 1.14.17: Returning
The past meets me at my doorstep, in the mirror, in a crowd of faces, in the playlist on shuffle- yesterday sings to me. I've searched for new sounds, but I'm not immune to the siren call I knew so well- this disturbs me, ever slightly. This interruption means the trickster Mercury is at the … Continue reading Entry 12.20.16 – The trickster effect and a new year
On the day of the church potluck, Rosamond woke up before the sun. To say she woke up is slightly misleading, as she barely slept at all. Her back ached and her feet hurt. A dull pain that had started and continued as she grew heavier in the middle pulsed from heel to the bunions … Continue reading Rosamond, 1956
My grandmother, Rosamond, moved to Manhattan in the late 70s, some time after her divorce was finalized. She was in her early 50s and practiced at independence since she'd been primarily on her own throughout her marriage. It was time to secure a future, so she did just that. She worked as a receptionist at … Continue reading Rosamond, 1978 (Excerpt)
My love, he's so tired and I stand by, face facing the wet pavement, I know what the sky looks like. But the weight made my head heavy, my neck aches All I have is my heart in my pocket, out of sight, to not be a bother, a burden because he will care. He … Continue reading Entry 112016 – He’s so tired and I stand by
We are all much like flowers in the dark of night, awaiting the arrival of the sun, beneath natural forces, yet of it all. Soaking up hungrily, drinking giddily, what we can from what we've grown. Rooted, we are no different from the earth beneath us. We may raise our heads to worship above- the … Continue reading Entry 111916 – Flowers in the dark of night
The first to congratulate the one who does a fine trick, Your concept of quality (you proudly proclaim it as such) is quantity wrapped in a bow, sir. They do put on a good show, I'll give you that. I'd give you more, if you could see what was before you instead of looking above, … Continue reading Entry 111216- You like a good show
My grandmother told me, She said, her mother, Ruth, sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee warming her hands, waiting for her husband to come home and kiss her and tell her good things. Oh, how she loved to be told good things. Her sons all went about their business- tumbling in the … Continue reading Entry 102716 – Music on the hill
The devil follows me He makes pacts with my shadow I stand by helplessly, I stay away So he stays away from you Have mercy, For he does not The rivers call, but I stay dry They renew, a reminder of my old self The waters rush by, caressing rocks, carrying fish and fallen leaves, … Continue reading Entry 91515 – Devil in Shadow
In the night, at first, I painted pictures of my insides with words. The tired eyes, still and icy, inviting as winter snow deepened, followed the lines, learning me. Leaning over the barrier built of quiet struggles, handfuls of dirt up around the old firepit of love. The meeting left me naked, shaking. Cold. Awake. … Continue reading Entry 61015 – Softly Built
Simon McBurneyThe Arthur Golden theater on Broadway, built in 1929, is housing a one man show run on haunting technological fervor through January 8th of next year. Simon McBurney and a team of sound operators and projection technicians bring to life a sparse but electrifying set made up of a handful of microphones, packs of … Continue reading On Broadway: ‘The Encounter’ Gets in Your Head
The autumn garden in late afternoon sun.Spring gardens get the glut of our attention for their buzzing, dripping, luscious display of new life. The bright green of new leaves bursting from buds and the many-colored petals surround us, echoing bird songs and the scratching of other newborn tree-dwellers scampering up the bark and home. It's … Continue reading What We Can Learn from the Autumn Garden
It rings in my ears, the words "why are you showing me this?" Already insecure that my past The dimly-lit corners of my self would be an obstacle to being loved, "Why are you showing me this?" made me want to hide away, Good God, hide away and forget I ever let the light shine … Continue reading Entry 82316 – Overexposure
