All sorts of wild
I don’t know why But every morning When I am eating my eggs They are dropping on the floor Or jumping From my mouth Unhappy With the purpose I’m giving them. I don’t know why But every morning When I’m starting to read My coffee is getting cold And it is saying Straight to my…
The hardest month to swallow – November
‘World Map’ Challenge
#coolprompts ‘The Shakespeare Treasury’ – Titus
I just love this beautiful poem in the intro to the book “Coming Home to Myself” by Marion Woodman and Jill Mellick. Since they encourage the photocopy or transcription of pieces that carry meaning for us, I am sharing with grateful permission. Linearity does not come naturally to me. It kills my imagination. Nothing happens. […]
# Permanent link to Marion Woodman’s poetry — via Mexi Minnesotana
