Sexual Responsibility
Calling a live sex line, making her first time be fireworks, loving yourself
Sunbeams
It is not hard to live through a day, if you can live through a moment. What creates despair is the imagination, which pretends there is a future, and insists on predicting millions of moments, thousands of days, and so drains you that you cannot live the moment at hand.
Progress And Other Lies
An Interview With Thomas Berry
The root of our contemporary industrial pathology is what I call a deep, hidden rage in the Western world against the human condition. We are devastating the planet in an orgy of destructiveness. We refuse to accept anything in its natural state.
Descent Into The Mother
This Mother appears in many cultures as a two-sided figure capable of both creation and destruction, of nurturing and annihilating. When we give ourselves over to the Mother we have no individuality, no consciousness.
My Earth Day
We were all terribly sorry we’d made the earth pay for our pleasure these last 200 years. We had a fear-taste in our mouths. Maybe the earth is preparing revenge. In comic books, an exposure to toxicity creates superpowered heroes, but in this world we are not so lucky.
Bindwater
Why the sisterhood had to build this pain in, with the Power always skipping a generation, the mothers and daughters always a loss to one another, she didn’t know. She had yielded to it until Annabelle became pregnant. Then, something with the fineness and power of a spiderweb had drawn the young woman, along with her husband, back to the neighborhood where she was born.
Bobo And The Devil
Bobo looked up. The devil took the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and go rest by the wall. He had a huge black cloak, and purple sneakers, and came across as very urbane, but he bit in close situations. Bobo had learned to avoid his teeth.
Inventing Wyoming
Everything we take from the earth, every drop of rain and every blade of grass, every bit of flower and fruit, the sinew and muscle of the animals we kill, we borrow these things for a brief time and we will pay them back. The records are kept from the beginning of time.
Journey To Juarez
Mary Ann does not see the doctor until she’s on the operating table, knees bent, her feet strapped into stirrups. . . . The doctor does not speak to her, never glances at her face. A girl, twelve or thirteen years old, stands to one side, squeezing Mary Ann’s hand. The girl’s hands are small and quite strong. Mary Ann squeezes back.
