prose
2004 | TURN LEFT AT MY SOUL
Much of what I write comes from a place I am familiar, yet unfamiliar with. It is a strange spiritual space that allows me to create--write--that which the universe sees fit to share. I often feel the words flowing in like wind in a tunnel. They blow over me and through me. But like the wind, they do not belong to me. I own them as much as I own immortality. And as we know, immortality is not a reality in the present, but a hope--a dream--we believe will give us strength and assurance that we might continue in a place that was once familiar. Our spiritual birthright. Our true ancestry.
My poetry, short stories and coming novels are gifts from the universe; borrowed images we all receive but must decipher. They are that part of me that will "be" for always, just as the universe exists always. Cosmic echoes and world knowledge are only a fraction of the images that spring forth from the collection of words and ideas that are known as "mine." Much of what I know or have learned comes from the well-spring of encounters--joy, pain, laughter and tears--that which stems from a life of sharing and introspection, a life filled with magazines, newspapers, books, friends and family; games and movies, picnics and bike rides. And all the odds and ends that make us who we are--that special pair of comfortable casual black shoes, that gold trimmed hour glass you just had to have, the solid glass paperweight you found on your trip to Washington, D.C two years ago and the picture frame you knew would make your children look even more alive and special. These are life's details that bring substance to my work, the pieces of time and the past that create great fiction.
I don't know everything, but I know what I feel. I feel our stories. And I remember the stories of those who have come and gone. I remember my triumphs and mistakes and those of all who have had the unique experience of living. I hope that my awareness of you and remembrance of those I meet along my journey--and an understanding of me--will ring through everything I write. I hope my words will remind you that life is worth the journey and that we are all the same-- brothers and sisters of this grand living universe.
Step into my space. To find it, make a right at my emotions, go straight to my heart and then make a sharp left at my soul. When you get to the end, that's where you'll find me--sitting on the porch of my intellect, soaking in the bright rays of knowledge and sipping on a tall glass of literature. Pull up a chair, sit beside me and we'll share a bottle of story filled spirits. And when the sun goes down, we'll say our goodbyes and carry with us the memories of yet another moment to share with our night dreams--night dreams that transform our day dreams into hopes of better days, into stories of who we are and what we can be. These stories become our life lessons and ultimately our future. Stay a while, let us build the future together--through words, through stories, through memories, through time.
Much of what I write comes from a place I am familiar, yet unfamiliar with. It is a strange spiritual space that allows me to create--write--that which the universe sees fit to share. I often feel the words flowing in like wind in a tunnel. They blow over me and through me. But like the wind, they do not belong to me. I own them as much as I own immortality. And as we know, immortality is not a reality in the present, but a hope--a dream--we believe will give us strength and assurance that we might continue in a place that was once familiar. Our spiritual birthright. Our true ancestry.
My poetry, short stories and coming novels are gifts from the universe; borrowed images we all receive but must decipher. They are that part of me that will "be" for always, just as the universe exists always. Cosmic echoes and world knowledge are only a fraction of the images that spring forth from the collection of words and ideas that are known as "mine." Much of what I know or have learned comes from the well-spring of encounters--joy, pain, laughter and tears--that which stems from a life of sharing and introspection, a life filled with magazines, newspapers, books, friends and family; games and movies, picnics and bike rides. And all the odds and ends that make us who we are--that special pair of comfortable casual black shoes, that gold trimmed hour glass you just had to have, the solid glass paperweight you found on your trip to Washington, D.C two years ago and the picture frame you knew would make your children look even more alive and special. These are life's details that bring substance to my work, the pieces of time and the past that create great fiction.
I don't know everything, but I know what I feel. I feel our stories. And I remember the stories of those who have come and gone. I remember my triumphs and mistakes and those of all who have had the unique experience of living. I hope that my awareness of you and remembrance of those I meet along my journey--and an understanding of me--will ring through everything I write. I hope my words will remind you that life is worth the journey and that we are all the same-- brothers and sisters of this grand living universe.
Step into my space. To find it, make a right at my emotions, go straight to my heart and then make a sharp left at my soul. When you get to the end, that's where you'll find me--sitting on the porch of my intellect, soaking in the bright rays of knowledge and sipping on a tall glass of literature. Pull up a chair, sit beside me and we'll share a bottle of story filled spirits. And when the sun goes down, we'll say our goodbyes and carry with us the memories of yet another moment to share with our night dreams--night dreams that transform our day dreams into hopes of better days, into stories of who we are and what we can be. These stories become our life lessons and ultimately our future. Stay a while, let us build the future together--through words, through stories, through memories, through time.
