• Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.


  • Is poetry a luxury? Can a dream rise up? Can it rise up through onion fumes? Pungent and sweet. And the bigger question - what would we do with it? What would we do with the dream that made it through the fumes and entered our body? Nose running. Teary eyed. Hungry.  Would we nurture that piece of ourselves and each other? Do we keep our dreams inextinquishable? How do we feed that part of ourselves and each other? That is a powerful question How do we nourish it? Care for it? Would we be be able to hold the space?... or would we open the windows, clear the air  and drop it. Not willing to let the dream enter our nooks and crannies. What would we do with the dreams that make it through the fumes? I write on onion skin paper and offer myself.

  • Intimacy is a privilege. Layer by layer we are peeled. Awareness grows as we come closer to death. Alive and living the poem.