Kali, Bridget, Navajo woman



I create and destroy my creativity in a blast of change. Making and unmaking. Constructing and deconstructing. Birthing and killing. This drips from me like the venom drips off serpentine fangs that puncture deep into my marrow. I am alive and dead with this creation and destruction and I want to burn and grow.

Night lingers even in daylight and shadows dance in the inky night leaving a trail across the moon. She recedes from us so slowly we are unaware of her slinking away into the nothing. I try to imagine a world without a moon. Only stars that splatter across the sky leaving a colourless imprint like a childs spray hand print on a piece of battered card.

It's all there in the nothing. I can't rip the flesh from my bones fast enough to join her....



2003-12-05 11:46 a.m.