Our Stories Can Set Us

It Was Like When We Were Little Kids And We Played Games On The Ivy-covered Hillside In The Backyard. We Were Warriors And Wizards And Angels And High Elves And That Was Our Reality. If Someone Said, Isn’t It Cute, Look At Them Playing, We Would Have Smiled Back, Humoring Them, But It Wasn’t Playing. It Was Transformation. It Was Our Own World. Our Own Rules.

I Wrote Poetry From The Time I Could Write. That Was The Only Way I Could Begin To Express Who I Was But The Poems Didn't Make Sense To My Teachers. They Didn't Rhyme. They Were About The Wind Sounds, The Planets' Motions, Never About Who I Was Or How I Felt. I Didn't Think I Felt Anything. I Was This Mind More Than A Body Or A Heart. My Mind Photographing The Stars, Hearing The Wind.

I Try To See The Dark And Light In Everything. This Is My Way Of Comforting Myself When I Am Dealing With Those Emotions.

You Are In My Blood. I Cant Help It. We Can't Be Anywhere Except Together

I Wish I Wasn’t A Girl Who Needed So Much But A Little Free Creature That Slept In Deserts And Ran On Clouds And Lived On Lilies.