the door is nothing,
the latch a make-believer;
fear is a cold ghost
-
Me, directing Oz while comforting Toto In 1999, my two oldest children were 7 and 5 and would accompany me to the grand Fuller Hall aud... -
we can wing, you can bring your lover, to hop across delicate stones toward those restful trees. thoughtful walks and quiet wantin... -
Perhaps the most provocative post I read this week regarding the suicide of Robin Williams came from a... -
Gabrielle was an infant the night we were attacked by a flying squirrel. Now, listen. I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, moths or b... -
it only takes a second, maybe after asking them to get ready for supper, which they'd rather not do, and they spike a rad... -
want for it wild, the wind in your brow, to send you ‘cross the waves of your long-past stars. i think i’ll not take that kiss now, but rath...
-
in a large bowl, dissolve yeast and 1/2 teaspoon sugar in warm water; let stand until bubbles form on surface. infinite dreams begin ... -
i'd been scolded by an ancient-faced teacher: how was it i was always running around the playground untied, i was apt to trip and g...
-
Wars between our children start over the simplest things. They begin with the breaking of treaties between siblings and the shat... -
hope from something strung - thin lines laid between thin dreams in a rectangle - something not solid but rather soft, forgiving, ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment