Kim L. Dulaney

"I believe if I summoned the sun to a 2a.m. meeting in the inner belly / lower bowel of the Kap-Kutan caves in the Kugitang Mountains in Eastern Turkmenistan it would show up - promptly - not because it had to, but because I dared to believe it could." ~ Kim L. Dulaney

I see you. Welcome to my site. Go on in. Relax. Browse around. Read some things. Write me. Give me writing tips. Ask me writing questions. Enjoy!

One day I'm going to write about him - here. Gonna tell you how we met in the wilderness. Gonna talk about 40 days and 40 nights and the time I thought he dropped me off and left me where he found me - for good, about growth and a sunshine so bright it takes your sight, and his pallette of colors that decorates my existence, turns my grays to passion purple, and how I am so thankful to know him - hear him when he isn't even speaking - feel him when I thought he would go. Gonna talk about faith and patience and soul sight that keeps me - helps me to wait while he works it all out. Gonna tell you how I need him unlike anything you could ever know without surrender - gonna blow your mind... One day when I dare to talk about LOVE, unadulterated and free.

A note for my friends, especially my Best friend (destiny doesn't dance, doesn't move - just plants itself, smiles, maybe waves with the wind, while it waits for us to work our way back),

My sister called and said she felt she might be having an asthma attack. In the same instance my heart pressed into itself as if trying to squeeze or wring something out. I didn't even know my heart had been leaking. I guess you could say I was flooded with emotions. For the first few seconds after they announced that Obama clinched the presidency, I couldn't respond. I tried dropping to my knees, as I had anticipated I might do. However, that motion was more commanded than it was natural. I didn't totally feel it. The weight was too heavy, or too light, or too absolutely unfathomable. I felt much like I felt when I had a child - That came out of me? I did something that miraculous? Though birthing children had been done on some level (millions of levels) before, it had never looked like me, came from my private place, and been intimately attached to, or associated with my personal DNA. Mothers know what it's like in the instance when the baby is out and it is being checked out by the doctor and nurses, and you get a hold of your vision and catch your first glimpse of your child's tiny blood-streaked legs, moving. There is a moment when you are not elated, not worried, not in pain, just numb and awestruck. What you feel, the way you connect with the creator in that instance is unlike anything you have or will ever feel again.

Until a night like tonight - Here, in the murder capital of the United States, in front of the entire world, you see a man who looks like you, lives in your neighborhood, attends your church, plays basketball at the gym where your friends play, walks with the swagger of your daddy, or your son... and you see him step out ahead of his country's ugly racist history and stand before the world as the president elect of the most powerful country in the free world - then you feel it again. You feel the majesty of the most merciful, God. At least I did. I shed tears. I yelled. I was silent and still. I felt sick to the stomach and heart. I think I could've died and would have lived a full life - in that moment. It made me happy and sad.

I don't want to explain that right now. Don't want to raise the newborn right away, just look at it for a while... just want to feel good, and proud, and cry some more. Just want to think about my son and the young men I teach in classes, everyday. Want to believe I won't have to work so hard to make them believe. Want to hope my daughter will have better mate selections than the ones on the news of late. Want to go to sleep tonight watching the reporters scramble to figure out, track, and analyze man moves in what was really a God game. Want to fall asleep dreaming that there is an African American male president of the United States of America. Want to ride this emotional flood to the enormity of the sea... if only for one night.

Once while I was on a camping trip with my daughter I saw an unusual sight. It was a horse, a female Palomino. She was golden brown with a blond mane that flapped wildly in sync when she trotted. I knew her pedigree without inquiry because I had grown up around horses. My parents bought a farm - a vacation home for us when I was a kid. My father was determined to have his children experience a piece of the life he'd known and appreciated as a kid growing up in Missisippi. So, almost every weekend, and surely every summer for most of my youth, my family headed to a classic 40 acre piece of property in Grand Junction, Michigan. We raised pigs, chickens, hens, turkeys and cows they expected us to eat, but I never did, and we owned a few horses.

I guess that is why I noticed her - this Palomino reminded me of Golden Lady, a beautiful and my most favorite horse of ours. Only this horse did not seem to possess the temperment that made me favor Golden Lady. This horse seemed wild and untamed, as if she'd never been broken or trained. She ran in circles, pausing only for brief periods in exhausted submission. Then it seemed she'd catch her breath and break out into a trot, then a full stretch looping circles unevenly, extending her pattern with each wild loop. I lingered behind the campers, and stood behind a fence watching her, trying to figure her out. I was drawn to her. I had never seen such a thing and something in my spirit locked me into hers. I wanted to bridle her, take her to a supply of hay, rub her to stillness. But I couldn't.

After a short while one of the women who worked on the farm beside the campground walked up. "Lost?" She spoke as she busied herself moving something on the ground.

Then before she could finish, I interrupted. "The Palomino. She's been running in circles for at least ten minutes. Going nowhere. Just spinning a big loop around the pasture..."

"Oh, yeh. She's been going at it for about two weeks now. She's looking for her colt. Just separated them a couple of weeks ago and she's grieving, that's all. "

"Really? I've never seen that before. I grew up around horses as a kid and I've never known one to behave like that."

"Maybe you didn't notice it, but they all do it. Some for four weeks, some for as many as eight."

"Hmph. Interesting." I offered. Then I walked away to catch up with the group. I thought about that horse for hours, wrestling with the notion that every thing that lives and breathes could have the capacity to love, care, and grieve, even the work horse.

And so today I remember the spirit of that Palomino; I feel it in a special way. My mother is very ill - once again near death. It seems like I just left the hospital and I am working through my day awaiting the time to go back.

my feet have developed iron u-shaped shoes and their soles are clod-like and cumbersome

I too, am spinning, searching for a connection, chasing a yesterday that holds captive the key to my tomorrow. So then, I petition my Superwoman self to please pardon me. Bear with me, for a moment at least, while I exercise my nature-of-the-living, in this Palomino Pattern.

So he won women and street fame, but never, ever, ever, won a championship game.

It's just about time. The new book Where I've Been: A Collection of Short Stories is on its way to the publisher and stores now!

A book signing event is scheduled for February 21st, 2009 at Borders Books 2210 W. 95th St., Chicago, IL, 1pm - 3pm.

Watch for other announcements.

Info on the book:

Editorial Reviews

Product Description

Contemporary urban America comes alive in this eclectic compilation of short and flash fiction with an inner-city aesthetic filtered through the brevity of hip-hop culture. A wide variety of strong voices and unforgettable characters are united by the humorous and unusual predicaments in which they find themselves, and many of the stories tackle contemporary psychological and sociological issues. Stories like "Simple," "The Faucet," and "Getting to Know Him" demonstrate a wonderful ear for the lilt of the spoken language while portraying everyday drama. Other engaging tales like "Chicken" and "Cleaving to the Man" prove how thought-provoking entertainment can be. These quick slices of life and easily consumable vignettes aim for a sophistication not common in most urban fiction.

About the Author

Kim L. Dulaney is a Professor of English, and an African American Studies teacher. She is the author of The Beautiful Ones, Star Struck: An American Epidemic and several children's books. She lives in Chicago.

Publisher: Third World Press

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