When I do sleep, my dreams are vivid – omens with oceans washing over me, or waiting for me, splashing at my feet as I maneuver wobbly obstacle courses above. They are the untangling of my daily life, in a maze of walls, a crooked… Read More
Rivers & Roads: Winding Through August
The stretches and growth pains of this year have been magnified this month, as though everything has risen like dew from the grass and lifted back into the sweltering ether of August -to linger, to stick to my skin, to make it hard to breathe… Read More
The Speed of Metaphors
Ten years ago I wrote that my daughter was a river: My daughter is a river. She is whitewater and I am a canoe, struggling to stay upright. I can’t let the speed, the turns, or the swirling caps of white foam drag me under. My daughter… Read More
