testing 1 2 3 !

so i have created this blog mostly and primarily because typing is a whole lot neater than my handwriting. i intend to use this space to think out loud a little and share things i like, but just for the record this will not be an "online journal" because 1) i hate it when people spill their guts online for the world to see and 2) because i hate that phrase. :)

sabrina

SABRINA WARD HARRISON is one of my heroes. She is the one who taught me "trust the mess". She lives in California and publishes her journals, designs long skirts, and hosts art workshops for women. This is what she says about her work:

"I use my "mistakes" - I follow where they may take me. I like to use what I find - what is left over, unused. My art supplies are remnants, faded and forgotten letters, table clothes, felt, wallpaper, drawer lining, photographs, paper doll cut-outs, maps, fabric, vinyl records, and sheets of music once played and heard - now left quiet. I am patching and piecing a life hooked together, yet partially obscured, with masking tape, ribbon, thread, varnish, and paper clips."

Oh For Simpler Days

i am writing like crazy lately. Probably because i have more time on my hands, May Sarton calls the business "thickets of undigested experience". i am trying to take time to untangle.

OH FOR SIMPLER DAYS

tonight i am a constellation:
spewed as from a dream

into remnants that clatter and skid
across the night,

like rhymes stuttered out across the nursery floor
in sweet, wide tantrum…

these lights so ravenous and stretching
“how can all these parts of me be one?”

children below, idling in their lullabies,
count and connect the dots.

are we gaining or losing?

i recently found out a little friend of mine was sent to the hospital for complications from an eating disorder. She is 13 years old. i think we are very hard on ourselves.

i have not weighed
myself in months.

if people must be measured,
can we not do it in colors?
or convictions? or blushings?

numbers are for rented doorframes,
panicked metronomes, and epitaphs.

they are for crowded calendar boxes,
ransoms too much, seconds too late,
and black tallies on the wrists of jews.

numbers are for least and loss.

but let us be counted
by a more generous scale.