I speak quickly.   Too quickly. I have to repeat myself a zillion times a day.  I am an expert in sentence restructuring because when I slow down too much, I


My family is a medley of cultures so I have no idea when a household tradition sources back to a specific region of the world, or it’s something they made

a great fall

My consciousness yo-yos, sinks to the ground in exhaustion, then whips itself back. I don’t know enough yo-yo words to play this out. Something about making a cradle you can’t


One of my favorite things about November is being able to read the constant stream of posts from those participating in National Blog Posting month, and specifically NanoPoblano. If you

rainbow enough

As time happens, I encounter more and more people who think prison is a metaphor I fold into my writing. In a way, this makes sense. It was hard for

a little step

This was written November 27th, 2014 from the California Institute for Women, from room 136– the cell without a mirror or light, or doorknob, where I spent my Thanksgiving.  I


My hair is in a mask tonight– a warm butter massaged into my scalp.  It makes the tendrils slippery-soft and coconut-scented, and slick, too slick for pillowcases, so I wrap