Wednesday, April 2, 2014

You are, the little house on the prairie.

And I am the lean-to.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Amelia dreamt that a black pen exploded in her pocket. Except the ink became ocean.

Monday, March 31, 2014


Tonight the spin instructor spun among us. He moved between two bikes. Orderly chaos.

During one song he stamped his cleated foot on the floor to keep the beat. When he counted out beats - when he shouted, "Faster faster faster," and "Keep it keep it" - it felt as if his voice came from within me.

 I spun to set the bees free. The room was black with them. I turned my body inside out.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Circle of

A friend writes me, invoking the ancients: "Think of cyclical time, not linear."

Yes. I am trying to take this view with all the things that fill up as soon as you empty them. The inbox. The kitchen sink. The laundry basket. The heart.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Red Hook Crit

Standing in the rain as the women rolled off the course. Life-size, close-up. Face & kits bright with rain. Bicycles looking like they could go again.

Moments before they had skimmed the night like birds.

It is thrilling to stand next to someone, who was just moments before going very fast. And to see the lines of their bicycle, which before was just a blur.

Friday, March 28, 2014

The mystery

Where did the plane go?

I might ask you the same question.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

"Why start a bikeshop?"

"Why not?"