Blind contour infused with memory and a Scorpio moon.
May your edges help you honor your softness, dear reader.
her broken wings find reparation cage door ajar the songbird finds her song in the last whispers of winter
I could trace the outline of your soul Well, I could try but it moves Like Mercury Like when I broke a thermometer as a girl And the mercury was so slippery And my mom told me stay away because Mercury is poison. But I wanted to play with it! Slippery Poisonous Fascinating It was…
Sculpture “With a Heart of Gold” by Willie Cole, photo by Perry Garvin I had the distinct pleasure of viewing some amazing artwork by artist, Willie Cole, at the Frye recently. I took my summer camp students to the exhibit and later, had the honor of hearing him speak and shaking his hand. His art…
“If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.” ~John Keats Poetry, life and love can be so easy when we allow them to be. Let’s allow it. Let’s lie in a field of buttercups watching the clouds and wiggling our toes and let the…
Dear Bluebeard, It seems you decided somewhere along the line that I am the perfect girl to fit into that little space in your pocket in your life– –that little compartment in your dreams, or your fantasies where things are tidy and YOU get your needs met. (Do you see ME?) To my brothers: I…
blame is a sour boar piercing the heart with fierce tusks of shame creation craves compassion and the flickering love dance of a gentle heart