I release you,
my beautiful and terrible fear.
I release you.
my beloved and hated twin,
II don’t know you as myself. . . .
I take myself back, fear.
You are not
my shadow any longer.
In the end she just wanted the house
and a horse not much more what
if he didn’t own the house or worse
not even a horse how do we
separate the things from a man the man from
the things is the man still the same
without his reins it rains every fifteen
minutes it would be foolish to
marry a man without an umbrella did
Cinderella really love the prince or
just the prints on the curtains in the
ballroom . . . .
I still feel that poetry is not medicine–it’s an X-ray. It helps you see the wound and understand it.
-women are some kind of magic
Mother’s Day’s coming, a time to give and receive flowers, many of which include roots, the promise of perennial life, and dread. Here’s how to ensure you and your new orchid love each other year after year.
I’ve put up with too much, too long. And now I’m just too intelligent, too powerful, too beautiful, too sure of who I am finally to deserve anything less. –Sandra Cisneros
how is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked milk and honey dripped from my lips as I answered cause people have not been kind to me –Rupi Kaur
The older I get, the more I feel my mother inhabiting my body. I’ve recently cut my hair in an attempt to gray gracefully, and when I look in the mirror, […]
I’d rather place my bets on the medical community being right than thinking a wild virus that’s killed over half a million Americans is perfectly survivable.
If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger. –Muriel Rukeyser