Pot Mama

Pot Mama

Pot. Weed. Reefer. Ganja. The Chronic. Marijuana was something that just never really appealed to me in my younger days. Even with the safety of a towel plugged college dorm room door, I could never quite get comfortable with it. It always felt wrong. Dirty. Illegal....
Self-soothing in 2017

Self-soothing in 2017

When I first awake, I am happy, whether sun is streaming in the window or rain is pattering on the roof. But then, as my brain starts to whirl, I remember that a reality TV star who might be mentally ill has the nuclear codes. I ruminate how he is filling his cabinet...
Pledge for a Frantic Activist

Pledge for a Frantic Activist

So I called some senators. I knitted a hat. I’ve marched, signed petitions, and typed a jillion angry emojiis on Facebook. I can’t keep up with the news, real or fake. It all feels like Whack-a-Mole politics. Idioms that used to be metaphoric are now literal: my head...

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