a meditation on renewal
Night timewhen I empty the bag of poems.
A crow shadow sails over the low pasture.Great heron gulps a field mouse head to tail.This world…
We become what we behold. We shape…
For them I am a tired housewife, who is in her bed lost in dreams.They don’t know…
Is there a term for that feeling — when you are drowning in your own sea of thoughts.
Whenever I feel suffocated I use the…
Whenever I see those perfect homes with plastic wallsthe…