What’s self-definition?

The “valley was aromatic”

and I was looking into your eyes

and felt the kindness 

of a thousand stars

and when we commenced walking

and the path cleared to an oasis

of clarity, you held

my hand and led me

further to the beginning 

of creation where the garden

was a virtue and obedience

and knowledge were 

not ordinary words

or subtle phrasing of faith 

but what were meant for love,

that’s where you offered me

the “sassafras roots and made 

me eat one.”

Your face was radiant.

“The fireflies, all over the trees,

spreading before us,”

a thousand flickering lights,

a thousand flickering nights.


note: I wrote this verse after reading the first essay from Pulphead Essays by John Jeremiah Sullivan while listening to  the music of then an 11-year-old girl playing a violin.She is much older now. Link below:


an examined life

Dragonfly dozing
on a lily pad
a dab of paint.
Did Monet paint
absence of the dragonfly
or imagine its presence?
What if Van Gogh saw fireflies
when he was convalescing
at St. Remy-de Provence?
Thoughts come 
fleeting lights and mist
starry skies.
Visiting Tuesday’s Farmer’s Market
I walk between tables
fresh spinach and sunflowers
strawberries and self-embroidered scarves
I think of the life I’m living
or an imagined life.