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.. just ask the moon. she’s got a job to do, too. wax. wane. balance the tide tables. keep that ocean stable. stars? they’re the thumbtacks that hold up the sky. (they don’t take smoke breaks, or wonder why.) i’d … Continue reading
.. There’s an aria here, too, and ballad moments. Nights filled with long slow love songs. Days drumming our hands against the furniture to the beat of our kids’ hearts, the rock album noisy rhythm of it all. There’s the … Continue reading
A decade of days falls soft behind us, a mere blink of an eye and the building of a quiet life. The coast calls, and we fling babies to Grammy’s house and responsibilities to the wind, and follow that west-blown … Continue reading
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or … Continue reading
(swearing by all flowers) .. Our syntax falls in petals of a different kind, roses abandoned for their uptight trite fragility. Our best gestures vary, too, by paragraph, parent -hesis, no time for eyelid flutter; but a life whole and … Continue reading
(a triolet) .. Oh, love is not a summer’s day, for winter comes quite quickly. Yes, plums get bruised and roses fade. Oh, love is not a summer’s day. Huzzah, now let us count the ways, some things regretted thickly. … Continue reading