I am told to write to my Muse.

I wake up magic. Still smoke in my hair. First thought must get back to tent. It was 31 degrees out and windchills so it felt 20 on the night we first put in the stove, seasoned a week outdoors. Cast iron thick, and on an earthen tile floor. This is when Brigid gets in.…

Gratitude. At the onset of year 23.

It’s like I wake up each day in a parallel universe the one where I am left wondering wait, where did that casual glory of day to day life handmade and well-worked (so damn hard for!) go, how the hell did I end up here? This is how it feels day after day, every day…

Lunar Samhain

is tomorrow & I had wanted to get a picture of the yellow and brown corn against the blue October sky, because they are only colors that arrive a brief bit and only at this time of year and are full of contrast from the seasonal light. Depths that make my heart naturally cry. Small…

Downtown, again

It is September, when my body draws me downtown again. When I crave the Ocean City where I came of age, of my childhood and wild years, the Ocean City where I first met my love. Now I come seeking that second season outbreath, my charged system heady and crunchy on arrival and aching to…


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About Me

Deep animism studying & poetry. I’m a depth psychotherapist grateful recovering humanist living on the midatlantic seaboard on Pocomoke & Underground RR lands, on a sweet sorta homestead with my four kids and love. Saltheaded. Hedgejumper. Mama Moon came for me a long time ago…

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my vow is: 
to remind us all 
to celebrate
there is no reason 
too desperate
no season
that is not
a Season of Song   
Diane diPrima

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