Will we ever be whole again? Will we be all right? The weather was grey, grey, grey all day, and rainy, but the leaves of the trees were green, birds sang, water sluiced off tiny blades of green, green grass. Ides of March two days ago. Saint Patrick's Day today. Today, I miss my Irish grandmothers. No one loved St. Paddy's Day more than they. Except maybe my oldest brother. Anyway. Blues have hit on this green day, and it doesn't feel like Spring. It's another one of those in-between times. One of those times when everything feels wrong. But I've finally learned that the black clouds will pass. After the rain.
First in a series. Hopefully.
Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down, splintered ...
"Papaya juice and back to work/I carry my heart in my pocket/It is poems by Pierre Reverdy.~ Frank O'Hara I first pulled Frank O...
Freedom and Light Like This. We Heart It . The idea of this movie coming out soon. This pillow by Alexandra Ferguson .
Anne Sexton is more than her suicide. She died the day I came into the world, and ever since I read "Her Kind," which mystified ...