Do you sometimes rise at 3 a.m. with us and wonder– where to stretch the tips of your celestial body when it has outgrown its shell? Do you look around and find the slips and circles of us glittering and glowing in our amorphous forms? Perhaps catching the thick of one piece in motion the…
Eighth Generation Ballad Singer Donna Ray Norton Shares Life Growing Up Singing in Sodom
When young Byard Ray was all of seven years old growing up in the remote Madison County town of Revere, it’s said that he would sneak his mother’s fiddle away to learn how to “tease out a tune” while no one was looking. It should not have been a surprise when his mother and father…
Held in the Origin Mother
Swaddle me in deep swells of the sea. Allow her wet blanket to fold over, under, around each crevice. Scrubbing the society clean. Returning me to salt brine and grain. Warmed in the origin mother. Touch candle to womb fire flame.
We Natural Golds
Summer’s natural gold. Showing off that quiet power Teaching those who wrap themselves in glitter, try to outshine the rest About that gentle way. Turn the speaker down to hear it now. Rockstar. Pay raise. Number one what they need ya to be. All that shine. All that show. Fill that role. Make that dollar. …
Remembering Our Way
The afternoon opens with a pink, hazy light. Inviting us into its expansive wardrobe. We undress, allowing the soft of our amorphous forms to bathe in its ephemeral cotton candy bubble. Slipping out of stockings, tall boots, and top hats. Abandoning all “respectable things.” Breathing into this unsuspecting invitation. Allowing all our shapes to move…
Left Unsaid…
I guess a lot could be left unsaid. And we could dream into the gray area between what I could have said and what you thought I meant without saying anything at all. Let’s do that. Allow our bodies to writhe and whisper sing our stories in motion. Walking to the mailbox Closing the door…
Our Communion
The coffee made early morning rests cold in the french press. Waiting our communion Not myself and the coffee, yet all the parts of me circled in grand reunion. Small me with strawberry pants and Tonka Truck carrying Barbie in tow. Chubby me squeezed into tights and taken to dance to explore life as the…
Patterning a Calmer Pace
Remind me how to slow down she said, because I desperately wish to move slower. So slow I feel the tips of my feathers as they touch into the wet grain of this riverside. So slow that many winters of woodsmoke are released when I walk. My feet golden coals in no hurry to burn….
4 Activities to Enjoy Around Hot Springs This Winter
I’m honored to serve on the board of the Hot Spring Tourism & Welcome Center in my small western North Carolina mountain town. Every few months, I write an article around local craft, environmental sustainability efforts (as we sit on the Appalachian Trail), around one of our cherished locals who help create the spirit we…
I Don’t Ever Want to Forget
Walking the fields gathering evergreen and vine remembering how we’d wander directionless picking flowers and sticks to feed the hungry stove and whatever else caught our eye. We’d fall to the ground after a while as two animals out wandering should easy in our bodies. How you’d quiet the demands of the world. Together we’d…
Tiffany Narron 