Anchored
It was a strange place; here and there, but nowhereWe were alone, you and me, and a hundred moreA place called home, but I’ve never been thereWe laughed and conspired; […]
Author Archives
LaylahM
Hope via rage
I cannot say how much of a relief that was. I also can’t express how much rage I felt. Rage at the world. Rage at the society that tormented, taunted and jeered at people who were dying from AIDS. Rage at people hiding behind their religion standing at the edge of AIDS walks and candlelight vigils yelling at us that they all deserved to die. Rage at the nature of life and death in general. But mostly at myself.
Trust
2001 @ Bumbershoot listening to Antebellus Afrobeat Arms relax to my side– From close to chest –And swing easy-slowRhythmic to the musicShoulders breastsribs waistTwist bounce rotateCounter-beat, counter-clock…..Wise Leg one, leg […]
Saudade
When I was 10 I first read The Forgotten Beasts of Eld. I think I probably read the book a dozen or more times that decade. It was for me […]
Sunday Wildflowers
Yellow. But not the color of daisies and crayons. More like neon green, but yellow and not neon. The colors together are pretty, but that kind of pretty you’re supposed to think is ugly. Not that colors are… ugly.
Poison Air
I could hear the urgency as Mom and the other woman talked; I don’t remember, but I think I just didn’t care enough to strain through the fog to hear what they said. There was activity around finding the nearest hospital – needing it to be Kaiser (our insurance), and orders that I had to stay awake.
The Traffic Ticket
It had taken me months to get up the nerve to finally say something to him. It just seemed like it was time.
I’m gonna race you back home…
New Walking the Elipses post “I’m gonna race you back home…” how I ran from the bullies but found friendship
Mini-Poirot in the making…
When I came in, dad greeted me from the kitchen and asked how playing at Crystal’s was. He hadn’t asked any questions, and I hadn’t told him where I was going. It drove me nuts when he’d do that. This was a game he played with me. He could nearly always tell me what time I’d gotten home, what I’d done while I was there, how long I’d been there, and where I’d gone if I left. All without asking any questions. When I pressed him about how he did it, halfway convinced he was psychic, he’d just shake his head and say I could do it too, I just needed to pay attention.
Writers klatch…
I’m not really sure what my first experience with writer’s groups was. I remember being at them with my mom – she was a founder or member of several. Sometimes […]
Walking the Ellipsis 