on a day when each dream was too slow, or not at all, "butterfly is still emerging" was the front page headline of the san francisco newspaper that was in every driveway/lawn of the street on which i was jogging. and because i believe in signs, that sign is now taped to the back of my bedroom door so that when i beg, "when, dear god, when?", i might remember to look up, away from my angst, and see that it's all in process after all.
i am here: sorting it through, anticipating the what is next. and this summer: my short story, "unaddressed," appears in the special fiction issue of the antioch review.
i haven't had patience as a virtue, but now am ready to try.