"It is better to heed a wise man’s rebuke
than to listen to the song of fools."
— Ecclesiastes 7:5
I don’t bother with me. They are more.
I say, “Do not know me.”
Not knowing is me. It all goes and saps
strength like dry bones,
always waiting for the wind (you know)—
Yes, this is so, they think: I am;
there is no other way.
Of course I have a mind.
The mind is reason. Mind is logic.
Sometimes I think I’ve gone societal.
Oh, it is a dance!
plié and bow as humbling and giving.
Good thing I never have to see me.
I will always come when they call.
This has never been strange behavior,
traveling between people, around the needs,
First and foremost, I’m a woman. I was a wife, and will be again in time (hoping by the end of this year—marrying my best friend). I have three living children out of five—Dunstan was lost three months before birth, Vincent recently passed after 2 ½ years battling the rare cancer PNET. He was 24. I have a BGS and an MA. The credentials did not make me a writer. I’ve been writing since I could take pen or pencil to a paper, even if the lines weren’t letters at the time. Gran’ma Ginny (an oral storyteller, keeping up with her Indian heritage) and I shared stories all the time. She was my inspiration. Today, I try to put her stories onto the paper. It is a difficult task.
I’ve had work appear online in Diagram and EWR, and in printed form in Confluence. A piece of my work has been performed by the Dance Collective of Fort Wayne, Indiana. I have done several readings on the campus of Indiana University Purdue University Fort Wayne and at the Three Rivers Coop of Fort Wayne in a series called First Fridays.}[=