the crossroads

so i have this big daunting thing inside me. it's a secret thing, so only i can know its gnawing and growing hugeness.

one of the things The Secret Thing is pushing me to do is lose weight (i am imagining liz' eyebrows flying upwards at this; but i can explain dearest ooompopo, so hold that brow)

which means i was up this morning at 7am. i contemplated what i will do tomorrw morning- exercise-wise, then i used the extra time to read the paper and make myself a healthy breakfast (dalia-porridge, if you must know)

The (daunting) Secret Thing is also making other smaller, more insidious changes that are scary and take up much imagination-bandwidth; i'm desperately waiting for the secret thing to become an un-secret thing so i can hair-split and discuss it to ordinariness... sigh!

if nothing else- i shall strive to post about my strife. wish me luck my lovelies.

An Ode To Rabbits

A bucktooth is a beautiful thing.
Two of them are prettier still.
To have two is practical too.
So lucky am I, and unlucky are you.

new pottery

on fudge mornings, bereaved longings
wait in the wings, among other Dark Things,

to take centre stage in the battles that rage
away from the light, and off this page.

pottery posts 2

An Evening at Pecos
'You have eyes like my dog's', he said.
How utterly open-ended and so long
the line of adjectives that queued
to fill the pause that followed,
as he stared into my doggy brown eyes.

Years later, with no idea
of what's become of him,
I look at my eyes, remembering.
It was the best compliment
I've ever received.