no intention in sounding repetitive here; however, extremely talented write you have! the ability to take others mind right there with you, fluid and introspective. just wonderful, you!
Just read your post following this poem, and so appreciated all you shared in that one to further my understanding of the poem. Your long sleep reminds me of my years wasted in alcoholism and the poem is shockingly familiar in parts. Just excellent, Maggie.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
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"Poetry has nothing to do with poetry. Poetry is how the air goes green before thunder. Is the sound you make when you come, and why you live and how you bleed, and The sound you make or don't make when you die."- Gwendolyn MacEwen
the light is on for you
These Words are Sweet Vodka to my Brain
vodka gimlet
tulip
toulouse
toss
toothsome
tenderhooks
swan
starlings
spritz
slut
scotch
saffron
radish
primrose
poppy and her cousins, poppet & and poppy-cock
plum
owlet
mint julep
magnolia
lux
lola
linden
lament
juniper
jazz
imogene
gossamer
foxglove, fret
forensic
flux
feverfew
eyelet
elixer
crocus
clover
champagne
bramble
bluet
bandersnatch
apple
agitate
nobody's perfect
"Her looks fading, the vain Lispector became increasingly reclusive and demanding. Addicted to cigarettes and sleeping pills, she exhibited erratic and sometimes imperious behavior. She would call friends in the middle of the night and flee dinner parties for little apparent reason. She had a reputation for being a liar."-<em>NYT on Clarice Lispector
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
wow!!
genius!
you are the best.
i love this poem so much....
how you choose the exact words.. wow. awesome, exciting....
love!!
y.
"it was not grace i longed for, but the expansive"
so true.
Sometimes words are the only “beautiful way to spin the earth beneath my hands” in order to try and make sense (and see the beauty) of it all.
How remarkable are you?
Very.
"and minutes were lives of thought" - so incredibly beautiful.
Your writing is such a gift. I'm honored every time I get to read it.
you are very talented.
Healthy Lifestyle
no intention in sounding repetitive here; however, extremely talented write you have! the ability to take others mind right there with you, fluid and introspective. just wonderful, you!
There are so many things I love about this poem. Your combination of words is always awe inspiring - this is one of my favorites!
Just read your post following this poem, and so appreciated all you shared in that one to further my understanding of the poem. Your long sleep reminds me of my years wasted in alcoholism and the poem is shockingly familiar in parts. Just excellent, Maggie.
Maggie,
I just love your writing and beautiful pictures. I hope you are doing well.
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