Powered by Blogger.

Soul Soothing Debate Detox

Whether you are politically involved or doing your best to avoid politics, it is likely that you have been affected by current events and by the current social-climate. Millions of women have come forward to speak out about our past experiences with abuse and assault, and many of us have had to relive the anxiety we thought long buried by time.

To get through these weeks I have employed as many healing practices as possible, from yoga to baking, and here is one that's working wonders. A spa experience at home, everyday, no matter what. Pencil it in, girls!

This Detox bath stars a Sea Salt and Clay Cleansing Pursoma Digital Detox Bath by Shannon Vaughn Pursoma from the Tory Burch Foundation 2016 Holiday Seed Box. The holiday gift box contains an array of items and 100% of its purchase benefits female entrepreneurship.

The night he fed me oysters

alfred eisenstaedt

The night he fed me oysters and I thought maybe this is love

by Taylor Roberts

The night he fed me oysters and I thought,
Maybe this is love. It happened at the peak
Of the taste in a little French restaurant
In the middle of Virginia. The moment
When the salt of the brine hits your throat--that,
That moment--why not call it love? He fed
Them to me like love. He held each shell
In rugged hands that could have strangled me,
But, delicately, he offered them to my lips.

I am trying to measure those moments,
Repeating the motion in dozens.
Is a lifetime of pleasure divisible by 12?
Maybe it is. Maybe I am
Too hungry. I really wanted roses. I don’t
Know why my heart died a little each day
Without them; why my crimson heart chose
To close like a rose in winter without friends.

I don’t know why his eyes were enough
To take me to the edge of the cliff, and
Not enough to make me undo my coat and to
Pour my body into the sand where it touches
Both the ocean and the sun all at once.
Why the feeding with his hands could only
Feel like love if we kept repeating it,
Thinking maybe if we do it again and again
The pearl will fall into my teeth and
We’d know.
We’d know.

I am really a pearl diver, a body of sand.
I can wait here, under the feet of
Tourists to be swallowed, myself, by the
Oyster, instead of the other way around.
I can wait until a piece of my existence
Is stolen in its trap and covered completely
In pearl, because nothing is worth the crimson
Pain of a closing rose, not even when
He feeds you decadence, not even when
He wants to love you well.

I don’t know why my lips were not enough
To pull the pearl from his hands
But you know, I loved trying.
I did love trying.

I did.

[copyright Taylor Roberts, 2015]

Elizabeth's Famous Chili

It is 1962 and Elizabeth is in Rome filming Cleopatra. She has met the man who would arguably become the love of her life, but she is missing something. Her favorite chili.

Attn Dave Chasen: "The chili is so good. All gone now. Please send me ten quarts of your wonderful chili in dry ice to 448 Via Appia pignatelli. - Love and kisses, Elizabeth Taylor."

Now, the Taylor family has shared several recipes which have been handed down through the generations. This chili, however, originated in a restaurant beloved by too many classic Hollywood stars to list. From Ronald and Nancy Reagan to Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio, Chasen's Restaurant saw the who's who of Hollywood right up until the late 1990's when it closed it's doors.

Peace Love

Peace Love

by Taylor Roberts

Dare I miss the days without the fog 
When all we sought was that purest note of wonder,
The jasmine gasp. Fallen Wasp,
I wandered where the groves once were.
I wandered, wanting nothing more.

The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts

taylor roberts anne sexton bombshell bohemia

The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts

by Anne Sexton

Who's she, 
that one in your arms?

She's the one I carried my bones to
and built a house that was just a cot
and built a life that was over an hour
and built a castle where no one lives
and built, in the end, a song
to go with the ceremony.



by Taylor Roberts

Nauset was your periscope.
It held out what all you wrote,
Lantern-pages, pipe smoke, smoke-signals, pages.
The waves waxed and receded like the sea was hormonal
And it shook you, didn’t it? It quaked you.

Rhythm Method

Rhythm Method

by Yusef Komunyakaa

If you were sealed inside a box
within a box deep in a forest,
with no birdsongs, no crickets
rubbing legs together, no leaves
letting go of mottled branches,
you'd still hear the rhythm
of your heart. A red tide
of beached fish oscillates in sand,
copulating beneath a full moon,
& we can call this the first
rhythm because sex is what
nudged the tongue awake
& taught the hand to hit
drums & embrace reed flutes
before they were worked
from wood & myth. Up
& down, in & out, the piston
drives a dream home. Water
drips til it sculpts a cup
into a slab of stone.
At first, no bigger
than a thimble, it holds
joy, but grows to measure
the rhythm of loneliness
that melts sugar in tea.
There's a season for snakes
to shed rainbows on the grass,
for locust to chant out of the dunghill.
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes
is a confirmation the skin
sings to hands. The Mantra
of spring rain opens the rose
& spider lily into shadow,
& someone plays the bones
til they rise & live
again. We know the whole weight
depends on small silences
we fit ourselves into.
High heels at daybreak
is the saddest refrain.
If you can see blues
in the ocean, light & dark
can feel worms ease through
a subterranean path
beneath each footstep,
Baby, you got rhythm.

[copyright Yusef Komunyakaa via IPA]
Back to Top