You try to decide if you should take this as a message of endings. Or beginnings.
What are you going to do if you find art, Pen? You going to steal some and put it in the van? I'm going to remember. When there was art.
We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting...
The world isn't necessarily going to explode. There will just be vast change. There is hope. It is in the rain forests, the healing plants from there, and in sex and the children who are being born. T...
Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them.
My baby brother would never call Hex soft. Not Hex.And not me, either. Not anymore. Not any fucking more.
Are you? What? What you once were?I can't remember.
Valentinemy friends stitched it up with golden threadlike a redsatin pillow they gave me other whole ones tooroses and charms and red candlesmilagros to repair the real onethey told me i was no longer...
The rain is coming.little sister, the night broke. the thunder cracked my brain finally. the rain is coming, i promise you. i didn’t mean to but your tears will bring life back. purple flowers grow, t...
My love wants to change the worldshe thinks she has so much to givenot realizing how much she takes from othersmy love is loyal until she senses rejection of any kindthen she flies like a bird but has...
West didn’t want her to get hurt anymore. He wanted her to let go. He wanted her to appreciate her life. To know he loved her. All these things sounded so stupid to him when he imagined saying them an...
She wished she had a little yellow house of her own, with a flower box full of real flowers and herbs – pansies and rosemary – and a sweet lover who would swing dance with her in the evenings and cook...
She pushed the gardener away and called for them. In her sleep she had seen love. It was poisoning. It was possessing. Devouring. Or it was seven pairs of boots climbing up the stairs to find her.
Relieved because what I dreaded most in the whole world was going to happen and I wouldn’t have to live with it anymore—the fear. There is the relief of finally not being alone and the relief of being...
Part of me wanted to swoon into nothing, but the other women’s bones were talking. I didn’t see the bones but I knew they were there, under the house. The little runaway bones of skinny, hungry girls...
If Death is your father, you don't ever have to worry about what part of his body the disease will strike next. If Death is your lover, you don't have to be afraid that he will ever leave you.
I close my eyes. I am the visionary, the one-eyed seer, the storyteller. I am Pen. I can fight with the power of images and words.
But the woman came to her them. The woman with hair of red like roses, hair of white like snowfall. She was young and old. She was blind and could see everything. She spoke softly, in whispers, but he...
And then--with the curse, or, in this case, blessing, of the unpopular, the unathletic, the overweight, the strange--they vanished like shadows into the spring night.
After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.