Sunday, November 30, 2014

I gotta go to bed.

I gotta go to bed.  I gotta go to bed.

Sleep is best for stress, weight loss, mood.  Why is it so hard to stop adding to my lists?

I'd love to get back to writing.  I just bought a new Moleskine notebook.  We will see...

But for now, to bed.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014


An impossibly clear day 
Out of PDX
The black green growth
Cresting and falling below
Covers and softens 
A small lie floating
In the remnants of memory
Spinning in urgent currents
Of vast truths
The logged forest
Quilt patches 
Prickly as a shaved vulva
Stark and uncovered
Build the home where 
We live
Through a small portal
Darkly the land 
Swells by in
The bright sunshine.
The ancient craters,
Their peaks 
Flags of white

Let us pass.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

All I Heard

All I Heard

What wild creature I must have seemed,
raised by searching souls
who eventually came home.
I wonder what Grandma wanted to say sometimes
to me, or later, my own slightly feral small creatures.

I don’t remember much sage advice.
All I heard was love.

I wonder, did she ever want to scold us
for not rinsing the fine beach sand from our feet?
I wonder, did she ever recommend that I comb my hair?
I would bet money that, inwardly,
she wanted to correct my posture.

But instead of corrective commentary,
all I remember her offering was love.

There must have been moments…

But either my grandmother was a perfection
of blackberry, canned peach, pinned-up hairdo,
boiled custard composure
(which is possible)
or I must be deaf and blind,
because all I ever heard from her
all I ever saw in her face,
all I ever sensed in her kisses,

was love.

Written and delivered in memory of my grandmother, Barbara Frances Dye Hinton, who passed away at the age of 90 on Monday, September 22, 2014. She was my last grandparent, and I was her oldest grandchild and only granddaughter. Although we lived far apart my entire life, her love and acceptance was a constant. I feel privileged to be part of a family where this kind of unconditional love and support is a given, and is lived out by each family member in our own way. No matter what troubles come, what insults are given or what lapses in contact happen, our family knows we love each other, and always will. Our grandparents and parents taught us that through their lives. I will miss you, Grandma.

Saturday, May 10, 2014


Leaving my grandmother
is like leaving the city behind as the plane banks
The orange street lights winking through the trees
The trees change to water
The water is heavy
The water reflects the bridges and the orange street lights wink until the mist takes over
The mists which carry me home
leaving her there, tilting off her pillow in the night.