Briar Rose

Hey everyone -- been working on the start of a new essay, incorporating the fun little sepsis debacle last year. More soon!

I used to lifeguard at a pool located on a decommissioned army base. The guards referred to the pool as Ft. Wolters and once a day, the kids from Edgemeade would run down the street for their hour of swimming. Edgemeade, a residential facility for teenagers who were “touched” (criminal, mentally-challenged, abandoned), no longer exists, nor does the pool except as an empty shell, like those commercials where an unwitting victim of drugs dives headfirst in the cement. On the edges of the fence, bramble and brush go unchecked, giving my past the appearance of a Grimm’s fairy tale, my very own Briar Rose. It was here on slow days I read Fear of Flying, Portnoy’s Complaint, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. And it is here in this broken and desolate place, I ask myself if can I sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." Charles DuBois

Cocktail Hour
Motor City Burning is getting ready to start up this month -- Hi Mark and Jim (meeting will be announced right quick)-- I'll see you soon! And to those interested in submitting or editing, please let me know.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Thursday!