“Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofus, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why […]

fire into blossomflame into petaltransformation begins like this:don’t believe whatthey tell youwhen their story is based on your impoverishment and supplicationwhen they stand to benefitfrom your smallness your lack of sovereignty your complicity with shamethey may light the pyre but remember, dear woman,your spine is full of witch lightand your soul is phoenix wingwhere they seek to destroy,you seek to transformleave a blessing where there was burntake wing take skyblaze a trailwhere once there wasstick match smoke now there is flaming petalsmoldering bloomthe wide garden skyalight with possibility -Angi Sullins

This way? That way? FINDING WONDERLAND demands that we follow the WOOSH wherever it leads. And sing. Don’t forget to sing!

We know there is a journey we should be undertaking. We cannot rest; we cannot sleep. Something in us knows that there is somewhere we should be going. And in the end, whether or not we think we can, we go because we must. We go, on a wing and a prayer, because to stay is to die.” – Sharon Blackie DONT GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAM. (Pass it on.)