Thursday, August 5th, 2010
Sensations — Surely God was in this place (and I did not know it)
Inspired from Genesis 28:16.
Entries Tagged as 'Sensations'
Monday, May 19th, 2008
After the leap
There is nothing ahead but firelight, sweet chamomile tea, four ounces of froth and eraser dust. Suddenly, we too are children; we too are poppyleaf flowers riding rogue gusts of unbridled wind. The solace you seek lies one octave above, above the cloud cover, above the sorrow and heavy matters of dirt, scandal and earth. […]
Tuesday, October 2nd, 2007
morning anew
Six AM sun still slow bite the chill of morning air and a window left ajar sirens and city noise are your serenade as you stretch and shake off cobwebs of yesterday. Seven. –8/28/2004
Wednesday, June 14th, 2006
Vignettes I
We sit in the van breathing the same air, together in the seven-seater as a family for the first time in many years. “It’s so weird,” my sister insists, “it’s so weird, graduating.” Four hundred families had celebrated her graduating class that afternoon. My dad looks over the driver’s seat, “How does it feel?” “It’s a […]
Sunday, March 12th, 2006
picturesque.
Sometimes you wish you had a camera with you, but I’m glad I don’t this time. It’s quite picturesque, this view with the Bay Bridge lit by the glittering gold of sky and watery reflected light, framed by the ominous presence of fast-floating rainclouds (with troves and spots and colors of blues, purples and electric […]
Saturday, January 14th, 2006
it sounds blue
Last night I dreamt again I was playing the piano. It was a melancholy piece, set to raindrops echoing off roof shingles. I was playing by sight, with no direction or closure in mind. It was simple, just: play what comes to mind and to ear. I played in D# minor, no particular reason except that […]
Thursday, November 10th, 2005
scales
A Letter: God, I want the real thing. Don’t let me settle for anything less. I want to be around the crazy ones, whose hearts’ eyes fill to the brim with hopeLoveFaith and they see that ambition fulfilled before their lives are over. They are like Kerouac’s mad ones; mad to live, mad to burn, mad to […]
