Skipping this writers conference made me feel guilty enough to write a poem.
When there are so many limits on what you can write about, what can you write about?
Purim Sameach from your friendly neighborhood sacred feminine uprising!
Valentine Shmalentine, where're my Devorah-hearts at?
If there's one thing I love, it's sweet-talking plants. Tu B'Shvat Sameach!
Infinity wants nothing so much as to fit its limitless rampant vastness into the littlest of spaces.
Let others bask in the surety of sunlight. You were born of the moonlight tribe.
The dishes will wait, they will always be there. Just put down your phone, walk away from your screen and start creating.
As an artist, I'm going nuts.
A lot of what you are seeing in the world right now is a collective re-triggering of old wounds, in a constant onslaught.
