It Was Just Enough To Sit There

Freedom, I Found Is Not Only In The Running But In The Heart, The Mind, The Hands.

Her Clothes Were Filled With Safety Pins And Hidden Tears.

To Be Of Mixed Blood Is A Great Gift For A Writer. I Have One Foot On Tribal Lands And One Foot In Middle-class Life.

If Only I Had Discipline, But Alas, It Is Only An Obsessive-compulsive Trait And The Beauty Of Habit That Causes Me To Return Again And Again To My Work.

Coming Down Off The Trail, I Am Lost In My Own Thoughts And Unprepared When A Bear Chugs Across The Path Just Before It Gives Out On The Gravel Road. I Am So Distracted That I Keep Walking Towards The Bear. I Only Stop When It Rears, Stands On Hind Legs, And Stares At Me, Sensitive Nose Pressed Into The Air, Weak Eyes Searching. I Have Never Been This Close To A Wild Bear Before, But I Am Not Frightened. There Is No Menace In Its Stance; It Is Not Even Curious. The Bear Seems To Know Who Or What I Am. The Bear Is Not Impressed.