Call To Gather

Sarasvati Sisters black hip of Atlantic blue belly of ocean ache from tongue of sea comes sisters full of salt tears and amniotic fluids ebb and flow build at break waters to stir up such mournful sounds even lighthouse horns cannot compete so lonely is mist and milky eye draped in her star-pinned sari studded with glitter and golden eyes knowing songs of Sarasvati sings through her pen and brush strokes of backhand wipe of weep we are, we be, sisters to deep dark moon-curled night when

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Philosophy of Mark-Making

A Woman of New Beginnings