Monthly Archives: April 2012

“All I ever had was strength” wrote that Greenwich poet from that forgettable anthology I stumbled upon at the public library some six years ago. All I ever had was strength. And today, I consider unraveling why I have prized … Continue reading →

Morning Routines How I have laboured over my morning routines. There have been Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages – three leaves of uninterrupted brain barf – there has been Goenka’s hour-long sits, a tradition born in the most holy hollows of … Continue reading →

What I need to feel safe – It’s not much. I can belt out soprano on a Sunday morning or empty six bottles of Irish red with a conveniently single friend – to feel safe, it’s about sitting down to … Continue reading →

Diaspora Oh Saturday! How you crinkle awake from all other days, crisp with the weekend Globe and the farmer’s market down the street. What is it about you that beckons such entitlement to rest? I am a student, so ‘weekend’ … Continue reading →

If I were to spin the globe of this day and land my finger on some sacred spot, it would point me to this moment, where I consider how much I don’t want to go for a run today. I … Continue reading →

What I’ve been reading lately is a book of Billy Collins, the poet laureate – the third of his I’ve taken from the library in a week. I’m also reading Care of the Soul by Thomas Moore, and, in between, … Continue reading →

The Billy Collins style of writing poetry is wearing thin on me – the kind where I land my gaze upon the vernacular and extract meaning, shape. I feel instead compelled to dance in the cloud of true verse – … Continue reading →

“Soprano or mezzo?” asked the nice balding hairdresser as he pulled a chunk of my wet bangs between two of his fingers. Funny you should ask, I said. Because it’s never stagnant, is it, this “me” we carry? All I … Continue reading →

I’m trying to get this day started. I circle the air traffic control tower of this day, Waiting for a cue from the next radio show, or the blueberry-mesquite smoothie I am bound to make, or the turquoise and white … Continue reading →

I do love to write my morning poem – (though now I write in the humid haze of afternoon, waiting on the cool front steps for a storm) – I love to start with the simplest of observations, and let … Continue reading →