Life is a poem,

A musical,

An Alice in Wonderland carnival,

If that stops, all will be lost.

It saddens me

to think people have stopped

seeing,

thinking,

breathing

m e t a p h o r s.

When we stop finding new ways of

seeing

understanding

experiencing

the world around us

I believe the very essence of life is lost.

The day I wake up

and don't have a new thought,

a giggle,

a day dream,

The day I settle

for the same old cliche,

the easy word,

the things I already know,

that will be the day that I've given up on me.

Breathless

When I think about what could have been, my breath runs away from me...

Your face smashed into my mind a few days ago, after a long and quiet absence.

He sat there at the bar, your friend, another face from that time, and I fell fast, back into that swirling, slippery space that I thought I left behind.

And, immediately, I was lost again, breathless again

about you.

"Famous" by Naomi Shihab Nye

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,

which knew it would inherit the earth

before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds

watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom

is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,

more famous than the dress shoe,

which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it

and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men

who smile while crossing streets,

sticky children in grocery lines,

famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,

or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,

but because it never forgot what it could do.

--From Words Under the Words: Selected Poems

From a poetry/drama workshop, a year ago...

**I am the color---PURPLE---a smattering of passion, curiosity, heart, and mystery. Solid in who I am, in what I am....but....still....with room for growth, for prettypunky magic. A little kid at heart in a young woman's b o d y. The girl next door with a royal air.

**I am the sound of a strong, blustery wind, whistling in and about the world. I am the sound of the sexy, soulful guitar, wailing and singing through the night. I am rock music, jazz music, acoustic, folk, and blues music. I am hip hop. I am classical. I am musical theater. I am music. I am sound.

**Change. Loose change rattles in my pockets, falls in cracks, jingles in various bags or jackets--a currency of overflow, evidence of money unused and forgotten. Possibilities remain dormant until that fateful moment or that last minute, frantic search for the change that will make my day. Change is the ever-possible something that lurks in the wings, the breaking dawn, the calm before the storm. Change is hope.is youth.is constant.is slow.is flexible.is coming.is happening.is hard.is necessary.

**If I could make one change...I would make an arts center--a studio, a performance space, a gathering space, a place where creativity, friendship, and growth happens.

Sigh. I'm nothing if I'm not consistent.