My favorite people are the people I imagine others to be… even after they fail me, I write narratives of our reconciliations.
What I’ve learned about myself, after years of showing up in whatever art-in-progress form that I am, is that my favorite heartaches come after the stories I made up about myself… even after I don’t measure up to what others needed, I write narratives of requited respect or affection.
Fiction has always been my pleasure.
Poetry is my language of surrender.
It’s what I did in my head, during years of being abused, by bullies, by my neighbor, by the church..
Fiction is the hope I gave myself, anytime I believed my neighbor might actually stop molesting me.
Poetry is what I spoke to my soul, to encourage it to stay alive.
Fiction is the hope I gave myself, after each break-up with lovers who could not walk my messy path with me.
Poetry is how I absorbed the forest’s messages of regeneration.
Fiction is the hope I gave myself. Poetry, the language of surrender.
