the edges of myself

words, words, words

Yesterday morning I had a hard time pulling myself out of bed. Harder than most Tuesday mornings. I felt heavy. My legs seemed to teeter a bit underneath me as I moved through my early Tuesday morning motions– trying to wake my sleeping beast. Tuesday and Thursday mornings are a unique experience for me. I …

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There are so many pieces of my complex puzzle that are coming together at the moment. So many parts of my multi-faceted transformation process are bubbling up to the surface and begging for acknowledgement. I find it hard to know where this story begins. For years I have danced around the same places– intellectually understanding …

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For several years now– too many to count, although it wouldn’t be hard to do, I’ve been silently beating up on myself for not writing. I’ve moved forward in fits and spurts, but they have mostly gone unacknowledged by myself– and somehow I have managed to continue to give myself the consistent message: YOU ARE …

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i don’t need to take pictures– your fluid image emblazoned in my mind feet gliding above the sand hands blossoming a golden lotus.   this seamless stretch of time away from existing structures– free to explore new contours find new lines in the curves of our faces.   a deepening– realizing– acknowledging of what is and …

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there are poems in my bones words woven through and around the sinews of my muscles– verbose tendons and loquacious ligaments.   phrases which will their way to my mind– narrating an unfolding pathway– letters, lit up like lamp posts along a winding stretch   familiar monuments, comforting sentiments, breeding ease– an allowance; cultivating breath …

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