Saturday, July 30, 2011


The twitch begins behind my left eye,
the dusty one,
lazy in long hours.
Prepared to wait it out,
I gather myself
into shadow and sheet,
drinking in the firings of
each throb
and wanting
a deeper dark.
Finally I surrender to
those bending furls of purple
and lie with the music
of this clutter,
stilling the hurried rush of blur and trailer
into a settled space of gritty warmth.
Sleep dispels the brightness,
subduing it under a collapsing wooden dock
so that it settles down on its knees
in fishy mud,
browning away
from that shuddering muscle
of weakened sight.
I dream of thick glass,
old-world pirates
with eye patches,
and the gray tabby hand puppet I played with
when I was five,
the one with the rip in her left ear,
the one who heard
(and saw)
my stories.

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Georgia, United States
I live at the edge of the forest in a little town in the north Georgia mountains. I teach sixth grade Language Arts and am writing a memoir of sorts about family, spirituality, and narrative. I am also exploring a possible writing project having to do with contemporary lay contemplative experience and how it might be informed by the Desert Fathers and Mothers of early Christianity. I am a relatively recent convert to Roman Catholicism and an admirer of Pope Francis, Leonardo Boff, Joan Chittister, and Richard Rohr. I'm a Lay Associate of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers, Georgia. I am interested in indigenous cultures, narratives, and spirituality, especially how these can inform my spirituality as a lay contemplative. I write, read, take pictures, play around with creating ephemera from paper and cloth and other organic things. I cook, hike, watch wildlife, and collect random bits of interesting oddness, both tangible and abstract. I am a seer of smallness and a caretaker of ridiculous minutiae. If you want, e-mail me at or