Category: creative writing
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Last night I woke in the teeth of the storm, shaking in a strange bed in a strange place. This time, it wasn’t a dream. I woke to thunder so loud I could feel it course through me, over and over, the way a bass beat at a rock concert vibrates in your spine. Thunder…
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Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Feel your shoulders relax. Remember a time you were held, and rocked. Or a time you held someone, and rocked them. Any time you felt safe, held. Begin there.
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plump smell, like baby skin, blooming so beautiful so smooth (everyone says so)
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Perfection is deception. Perfection is a poison pill packaged and sold next to the botox and collagen injections.
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Happy 2019.It′s started off rocky, and my heart is feeling heavy for reasons both external and internal. Familiar questions echo: bouncing from the global to the personal. Why are our societal systems often so cruel to the most vulnerable, the most innocent?Why do we so often hurt the ones we love?And me: Why can′t I…
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Dear 19-year-old Me, You were SO excited, do you remember? I mean, you were on the move and it wasn’t New York, or even Chicago—but it was somewhere—another state, albeit in the absolute wrong direction, away from the coast, even further from the Atlantic you dreamed of living near one fine day. I’m writing to…
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Today in workshop: coloring back in time In today’s Amherst Artists & Writers workshop, we finished with a prompt rooted in mindfulness and childhood memory. Here’s how it goes: you choose a few crayons from a big bowl, make sure everyone has drawing paper, and together we all breathe in the smell of the…
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Waiting for the sunshine You stood in the kitchen, waiting for the sunshine. Oh, Mama. You waited. You waited while the tickle in your throat rattled and rattled. Every phone call, eruptions of coughing. I listened, there was nothing else I could do—and sometimes I’d cut in, “hey, I’ll call you back, how about, when…
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In this one, you are standing by the old canal at Holcolm Gardens. The sun has made your hair catch fire, the sun is coating your tanned legs and long arms with a honeyed light, and for some silly reason lost to me now, you are holding up a big red box of Cheetos, holding…
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