I am a writer from black and white Polaroid conjured flashes of a heavily verbalized social initiation
I am a writer from memories in dreams, a pregnant dimension full of conscious and unconscious visual impressions
I am a writer from deep emotions molded like clay in the hands of a painter’s sexual abuse
I am a writer from fragility, afraid to admit vulnerability folded into a starched wimple and double masked to show the tough side that doesn’t ever scab
I am a writer from water ballerinas, long distance swimmers and high dive jumpers
I am a writer from exclusion, witnessing from the other side trying too hard to be loved in spaces and places I had no business ever entering
I am a writer from the mind of a young panchoed girl curiously caught in the winds and whirls of hitchhiking across the U.S. in the Summer of Love
I am a writer from an innocent soul who ventured into a skid row alley cockroach infested tenement and was greeted by an old woman in a wheelchair who blankly stared and asked, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
I am a writer from dancing on the dark side looking for love in the strangest and scariest places
I am a writer from a history of cheating death and a lineage of healers, seers, and Nona Stregas
I am a writer who finally saw through gin & tonic, long island ice tea, & hurricanes in the French Quarter
I am a writer from strong women on an island in the Mediterranean who could foresee and foretell what happened times before and times yet to come
I am a writer from women who breathed on a malady, saw through skin, and healed dis-ease with a touch
I am a writer from time to listen and transcribe automatic channeled messages
I am a writer that sees through a billionaire’s pity-full penetrating penal rocket and the greedy pharmaceutical monsters’ ploys to opiate genius
I am a writer with a generous pen that can heal, sting or stun with a simple dash
I am a writer from a bloodline of strong women who weren’t afraid to use their voices and they did!