She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer

But Be Careful; Sand Is Already Broken But Glass Breaks. The Shoes Are For Dancing, Not Running Away.

Dear Angel Juan, You Used To Guard My Sleep Like A Panther Biting Back My Pain With The Edge Of Your Teeth. You Carried Me Into The Dark Dream Jungle, Loping Past The Hungry Vines, Crossing The Shiny Fish-scale River. We Left My Tears Behind In A Chiming Silver Pool. We Left My Sorrow In The Muddy Hollows. When I Woke Up You Were Next To Me, Damp And Matted, Your Eyes Hazy, Trying To Remember The Way I Clung To You, How Far Down We Went. Was The Journey Too Far, Angel Juan? Did We Go Too Far?

I Wrote Poetry From The Time I Could Write. That Was The Only Way I Could Begin To Express Who I Was But The Poems Didn't Make Sense To My Teachers. They Didn't Rhyme. They Were About The Wind Sounds, The Planets' Motions, Never About Who I Was Or How I Felt. I Didn't Think I Felt Anything. I Was This Mind More Than A Body Or A Heart. My Mind Photographing The Stars, Hearing The Wind.

Choose To Believe In Your Own Myth Your Own Glamour Your Own Spell A Young Woman Who Does This (even If She Is Just Pretending) Has Everything.

I Wish I Wasn’t A Girl Who Needed So Much But A Little Free Creature That Slept In Deserts And Ran On Clouds And Lived On Lilies.