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I love silence ­– but never to be silenced. I love the spirit(s) of the night but never to be deceived by darkness. I cherish creativity – but it must always find positive expression. And as for love. . . Read More »

Across a turbulent ocean in hues of blue with hints of green, I traverse 10,565 km to touch the wild. Spoils of heated evenings span four years to entwine the presence and absence of two lovers in disparate realms.

As the wind blows from the east under the Flower Moon, I listen to the clatter of the shutters, the roiling of restless waves. From the balcony of midnight, I tease the rising mercury. A twist worthy of a woman’s will. Read More »

Ah, my friend the past – with all your secrets. You won’t catch me in your net again. I’ll dive beneath the sea and wriggle free from your oozy arms. Don’t come at me with your wily ways. You’ve cheated on me before. But hey – I cheated on you!

Don’t sweet-talk me, then sail away – parade the skeletons and steal the jewels. I’m just not buying everything you’re selling. Sure I’ll take a look at your wares. And then decide. Read More »

I love a slant of light across a snakewood floor – in the black ink of night a path oblique and clear. I close my lids for vision – lay down to take a stand.

In the muscle of a brawny shoulder, I sense a tender touch. In the drape of gauzy fabric beneath a leafy frond, I summon up an edge. In sync with instincts of a leopard, lairs of civilization contort my intuition. In the sea air, I find my footing. In the night, I find the light. Read More »

Every January when the cold winds begin to swirl, I practice the geometry of impulse. Often fueled by boredom or the let down of holiday expectations, I whip up a cocktail of beginnings enticed by possibility. I book flights of fancy and distant destinations in perfect conflict with the mundane. I’ll make the deadline, I figure, I’ll show up for class in California by 7 pm straight from LAX, in spite of the 24 hour flying time from say Kenya via Amsterdam with touch down – and who cares about time zones when you’re that far gone. Read More »

A nomad since inception, I seek the spotlight out of sight. Drawn to the allure of the partially obscured, I’m addicted to escape. I love to defy – let’s say – gravity. High in the Himalayas, under house arrest in a hotel embroiled in political turmoil, I fled to the rooftop to plan my break. Hijacked in a flooded pass on the Karakoram Highway with a convoy of trucks and truckers, I prayed to the snowy peaks. Trekking in the highlands of Papua New Guinea, I succumbed to hallucinations – not from the bite of a deadly mosquito but from drugs (now banned) intended to ward off the chills of malarial dreams. On a lonely road at sunset, somewhere in India, I uncovered monkey brains when I popped the trunk. And in a tent in Tanzania I slept with scorpions under my bed. In South Africa I sidled up to fever trees nestled deep in swamps and froze when a cobra slinked around my toes. Across the globe, I’ve juggled lovers and tried my luck. Now – all bets are off!  Read More »

Ah, to happen upon a blemish of beauty or the sequence of a scar, glimpse a twist of mottled gourds or touch a figure out of reach. Behold the garnet stain of cuts or tear marks of a cheetah. Weave a delicate web for tiger’s eyes and knot the teeth of shark. Spy the lap of inky waves lure the lapis sky. In a slant of moonlight, we cast a spell – his dreads as black as tourmaline, my strands of gold unlocked. Flesh upon flesh, we tangle ­– our comet in the stars. Read More »

Truth and beauty lie in the abandoned – the thrill of promise in a pier. Treasure flows in streaks of timeless oxidation or a claw flung upon the sand. An imprecise arrangement of debris teases elegance, while perfection arises from a palette of abstraction – of blues and orange and deepest black. Organic whisperings of transformation – await the Hallelujah. Read More »

Out of the blue(s) the word vanish appears to me. Although unnerving, I like the way it sounds – like it’s vaporizing in the split of a split-second. Poof – gone! I decide to delve into vanishings. But I keep losing my way, struggling to express with clarity or poetry (or a wishful blend of both) how to get a hold of what I have to say.  So I circle and swoop from above and angles down below searching for perspective. With limited geometry, I turn to creativity – take the intangible to grasp the ineffable. As truth and freedoms melt away, the endangered and vulnerable lose protection, and the planet faces peril – what remains? At what point does the vanishing point vanish? Read More »

Could crystals and metaphors save us from corruption and destruction? Preserve our earth and freedoms? Could they be conduits to reclaim our power? Just maybe –

To escape the record heat wave (radiating warming) immerse yourself in The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel – not the finale of the TV series. Originally titled Offred, the name of the central character suggests loss of identity, a chattel (of-Fred) and a religious sacrifice (offered). Set in the Republic of Gilead, a theocratic dictatorship where the Constitution and Congress no longer exist, with the population shrinking due to a toxic environment, the elite monopolize the valuables and conscript the remaining fertile females. Once brainwashed in the re-education facility to understand they have no real rights, the Handmaids will be protected if they conform. The controlling Aunts, true believers, are opportunists and sadists complicit in the regime. Are you iced yet?  Read More »