A poem that squeezes humor and even transcendence out of my obsessiveness, ineptitude, and rotten choices. I'm guessing many can relate in various ways.
We hunger to love the undiscovered, we long to grow fond of wanting, help us remember what we have forgotten.
My heartfelt, sometimes anguished thoughts and prayers for this special time of year. I need help, and I'm not afraid to ask.
Valentine Shmalentine, where're my Devorah-hearts at?
An astonishing fire blazes within. You must spill forth this light, or be consumed from inside. This is the sacred act of spark extraction. This is returning to the knowing in your bones.
Skipping this writers conference made me feel guilty enough to write a poem.
Freedom drives my life, but maybe I need to transcend it.
Some people are just scary and terrifying and we should never, ever, ever try to talk to them. That is not at all what this post is about.
My outsider status was hard-won. Earned with my own blood.