Was it a repurposed tablesomeone made out of a door?Was it the time I asked my grandfatherwhy he made a fire on the tableand without blinking he grabbeda bucket full of water to put it out?My grandmother cut hot mǎmǎligǎ on itwith a white thread.Was it Betty and Murray’s tablewith the best conversations?Was it the... Continue Reading →

When purple flowers grow on your front steps,don’t look them up to see if they’re a weed or flower.Who decides who’s a friend or an acquaintance?Who knows whose ideas cross-pollinate?The flowers I adore might give you allergies,make you sneeze for hours because of the pollen,the way lilies can kill a cat, give you a migraine.Did... Continue Reading →

Geraniums in the studio—so much red, so much hope.You said to send you some faith.Geraniums in the studio:art albums, quilts, old photographs,the canvas spread on the wall.The smell of paint, the ritualof a hundred brushes,the sunlight kissing Pikes Peak.Prayer and the sound of a mandolin,the echo of dance. Energy,                                                                                                    arduous audacity,luminous arching of daring. Song, rhythm, fabric.An... Continue Reading →