eeo
design • writing • yoga
Category: creative writing
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(short fiction) Heartshaped Vaguely heartshaped, that’s how you described her face, and I always imagined her—with my child’s-eye, literal imagining—as having a face the color of a pink valentine’s candy heart, a face with a pointy chin and also big eyes made of chocolate, because you said hers were brown and melty. That’s how I…
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I, too, am from a sift of lost faces from patterns I can’t untangle from an endless string of cats purring
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back through time I lumber back through time unrooted over boulders gap-eyed water glinting pink sunset unrooted I slide through mud into sand into lake stone wash hillsides caving in I am caving in all I have to hold onto all I can carry this basket, sweet-grass woven Inside is my pacifer rubbery round I…
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Never lose hope, my heart, miracles dwell in the invisible. —Rumi love poem to the world, #16 The way my brain flares as I dream of you, electric while purple finches sleep hidden in dark branches how egg met sperm in warm depths and became you while the soul of my mother sang in…
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Dear Senator Portman, Can you tap into that part of your soul that unlocks and opens up with compassion for your neighbor? You did once. Part of me, that hopeful, naïve girl raised in a suburb that was “nice” and had “good schools” believes you can. That’s the sliver of me that tenaciously refuses to…
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Fear-based attachments are physically addictive, states the psychiatrist in the book I’m reading. (Is that why this nightmare isn’t over yet?) Explains things: why ugly hazing rituals cement bonds why that friend of a friend won’t leave her abuser (Oh, and she may also know he’ll kill her, if she tries, but people will still…
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I took my car to the dealership this afternoon. I brought my work along, dreading having to tune out the flash and blare of the ginormous big-screen TV in the “customer lounge.” Ironically, the last time I was at the dealer, trying to ignore the television, it was Inauguration day. Me, a woman who hasn’t…
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Another day, another prompt. Today I let my worry stone do the writing. Find something or choose someone, and let them write to you. See what happens. Dear E, Finally. I get to tell you my worries. About damn time. Our relationship, up until now, has been entirely one way. From that moment on the…
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Prompt: Close your eyes. Breathe. Name a fear you have. Breathe again. Now, write about where it lives in your body. 10 minutes, go: My fear is not being understood by the people I love. This fear lives in the dungeon of my throat. It is the murky water at the bottom of a bottomless…
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My phone case is shiny plastic, scarred now from use. It is the color of a cartoon character’s eyes, the mischievous female sidekick with a heart of gold’s eyes, eyes that sparkle and pop out from the screen a bright teal-y blue not found in nature. The edges surrounding the black glass face of the…
eeo 