There are places I see in my dreams; places like my first bedroom when I was an infant and living in a duplex apartment off Queens Boulevard. I can see it all very clearly. My point of view is from the inside of my white crib. The room is the kind of dim that comes when a baby is placed down for an afternoon nap.
I notice the light blue walls with scribbles of crayons drawn in large circles next to the light switch. And though I have no memory if this, my Mother once told me I used to draw on the walls, which is why they used to take my crayons away from me when I was in my bedroom.
I see this place in my dreams sometimes. The white door that leads out into to corridor is slightly opened. I suppose Continue reading →

This is a story about the beginning of my journey . . .
I knew a woman who as a little girl was afraid to come outside and play. She was afraid of making too much noise or causing too much attention and disturbing an angry drunken father.
She told me how she learned to play quietly at a very young age. She use to play in places like her bedroom closet Continue reading →

And you . . .

The way you walk or smile;
the way you shift your eyes from left to right
and raise an eyebrow to hint the start of an idea.
The way your voice sounds
and the way your hand feels
when it touches mine
The way you breathe when you lay next to me,
and the way your face reacts to sunlight
as if the sun Continue reading →