The Blue Fox

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 08:54:25 +1000

We stood in line, backed up onto Fort St, like we did do queuing for 'our table' in the Blue Fox. Over dark, nearly bitter coffee stirred with distraught laced with angst we held up. Remember, you called crying, "Can we have lunch, sis?" You s...

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Parallel Play

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 23:08:53 +1000

Akin to children, we play love Here in our sandbox, manipulating toys Gobbling goodies, side X side Advancing from solitary, to lateral … Dimensions Bigger girl. Bigger boy. Bigger game. You, sheltered by your reality, Me, locked into min...

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House of Dreams

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 19:07:03 +1000

The poem is the point at which our strength gave out. Richard Rosen I do not trade in Beginnings middles ends Such trinkets lurk or linger Elsewhere. Find them for Yourself. ~ * ~ The room at the end of it, Is a forest, certainly...

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Voices

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 03:34:09 +1000

By the time I was old enough to learn anything - you had already chosen passive verbs and spoke only in the third person. Naturally, I have become nothing more than a common noun.

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I, Blind

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 11:34:40 +1000

"The wildish woman can pretend to live 'an ordinary life" while gritting her teeth, but there is always a price to pay." ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves There is no ambivalence I wrap the blindfold round - swathe the cag...

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Hold Me

nobody@vox.com(Fiona) — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 22:54:41 +1000

There is a way of touching which honors our fragility - the vulnerability of be-ing.

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