My new therapist asked me if I journaled. It occurred to me that I no longer journal. This has happened before - the subconscious struggle to disappear into a haze of unrecorded events and days that blend into one another. But why? I also no longer dream. Actually, on most days I need a crane to get me out of bed, and when I do get out of bed, I'm ( Read more... )

I took a cab home from LAX to find the apartment empty and the new peach sheets on the bed, mussed up and worn, slept in but as though someone had left in a hurry, the comforter piled high in a heap in the center of the bed and the wicker Ikea lamp on in the corner of the room ( Read more... )

Mary, the darkness is back

Its long fingers combing the trees

Like a layer of black paint,

Oily, heavy.

The last few roots that I spread

Into this thin soil

Are also coming apart

Unraveling like a life in reverse.

We used to talk about being born

But more and more, these days,

I think that maybe it was really about being dead.

Even ( Read more... )

My skin is pickled with the cold ( Read more... )

it's returning, i can feel it. below me the city sighs and heaves like a giant whale gasping for air on the beach ( Read more... )

My escape from limbo draws near. Ecuador is around the corner. I will be volunteering at an animal rescue center called Hacienda Santa Martha (www.santamartharescue.org ( Read more... )