Poetry Friday
After the good earth where the body knows itself to be real and the mad flight where it gives itself to the world, we give ourselves to the rhythm of love leaving the… Continue reading
After the good earth where the body knows itself to be real and the mad flight where it gives itself to the world, we give ourselves to the rhythm of love leaving the… Continue reading
“Writing means revealing oneself to excess” – Franz Kafka Occasionally when I write something on this blog, I pause before hitting the “publish” button and wonder have I revealed too much of myself?… Continue reading
‘Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. A fearful thing to love, to hope, to dream, to be – to be, And oh, to lose. A thing for fools, this,… Continue reading
The World Has Need of You everything here seems to need us… —Rilke I can hardly imagine it as I walk to the lighthouse, feeling the ancient prayer of my arms swinging in… Continue reading
The Almanac of Last Things From the almanac of last things I choose the spider lily for the grace of its brief blossom, though I myself fear brevity, but I choose The Song… Continue reading
If I Were There are lots of ways to dance and to spin, sometimes it just starts my feet first then my entire body, I am spinning no one can see it but… Continue reading