Category Archives: Uncategorized
a ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
Most of our floorboards were cut from trees that we cleared to make the horse paddock. (We were not always overly tired parents struggling to remember to run the dishwasher every night. We used to have energy. We used to
a ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
Most of our floorboards were cut from trees that we cleared to make the horse paddock. (We were not always overly tired parents struggling to remember to run the dishwasher every night. We used to have energy. We used to
b ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
When I worked in New York, I could tell you, down to the tiniest detail, most anything about my store. When it was my turn in the rotation, I often walked the floors, cordless phone in hand. There I would
b ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
When I worked in New York, I could tell you, down to the tiniest detail, most anything about my store. When it was my turn in the rotation, I often walked the floors, cordless phone in hand. There I would
a ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
When I am an old woman I will sit by a window with a black shawl around my shoulders. I will tangle the knotted fringe of the shawl among my craggy fingers and look out at the snowy world. I
a ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
When I am an old woman I will sit by a window with a black shawl around my shoulders. I will tangle the knotted fringe of the shawl among my craggy fingers and look out at the snowy world. I
b ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
‘I think I prefer to live at the level of what the British call muddle. Muddle with occasional squinting at something that might be called clarity in the distance, so as not to despair.’ From Carlene Bauer’s “Frances and Bernard”
b ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
‘I think I prefer to live at the level of what the British call muddle. Muddle with occasional squinting at something that might be called clarity in the distance, so as not to despair.’ From Carlene Bauer’s “Frances and Bernard”
b ~ Is it perfume from a dress/ That makes me so digress?
Silky dresses, high heels, expensive perfume; elegant, extravagant gifts meant to impress. These are meant for someone else. I’ve never known how to teeter totter along in heels or worry about pulling down the hem of my skirt. Yet I
b ~ Is it perfume from a dress/ That makes me so digress?
Silky dresses, high heels, expensive perfume; elegant, extravagant gifts meant to impress. These are meant for someone else. I’ve never known how to teeter totter along in heels or worry about pulling down the hem of my skirt. Yet I
a ~ Is it perfume from a dress/ That makes me so digress?
A few weeks ago I bought a coat. It’s a nice coat. It isn’t new, though it’s new to me. I bought it one morning after performing a bevy of stunts (grocery shopping, car wash, banking) in my old coat,
a ~ Is it perfume from a dress/ That makes me so digress?
A few weeks ago I bought a coat. It’s a nice coat. It isn’t new, though it’s new to me. I bought it one morning after performing a bevy of stunts (grocery shopping, car wash, banking) in my old coat,
a ~ (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair)
I’m reading SWEET TOOTH by Ian McEwan and I tell you what makes the hair on my arms float like gravity is just a whim. “I took the dilapidated three-carriage Lewes train and got out at the Falmer stop to
a ~ (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair)
I’m reading SWEET TOOTH by Ian McEwan and I tell you what makes the hair on my arms float like gravity is just a whim. “I took the dilapidated three-carriage Lewes train and got out at the Falmer stop to
b ~ (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair)
A Year in the Life/ Light March~ You are amazed each and every morning, as the sunlight streams in through the window. It’s been a year and he’s still beside you, now quietly snoring as you take in his sleeping
b ~ (But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair)
A Year in the Life/ Light March~ You are amazed each and every morning, as the sunlight streams in through the window. It’s been a year and he’s still beside you, now quietly snoring as you take in his sleeping
a ~ And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
My youngest drew this portrait of me. Notice the smile, the svelte waist, the coiffed hair. And my arms. “What are those bumps on my arms?” I ask. “Those are your muscles,” he answers, looking for all the world like
a ~ And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
My youngest drew this portrait of me. Notice the smile, the svelte waist, the coiffed hair. And my arms. “What are those bumps on my arms?” I ask. “Those are your muscles,” he answers, looking for all the world like
b ~ And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
To the woman I saw on Sunday who was at her wit’s end, I’m sure you don’t remember me, we didn’t exchange a word or pleasantries, in fact I never got out of the car. I only saw you from
b ~ And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
To the woman I saw on Sunday who was at her wit’s end, I’m sure you don’t remember me, we didn’t exchange a word or pleasantries, in fact I never got out of the car. I only saw you from
Let us go then, you and I 