We had this tiny little (ok not so tiny or little over 8lbs) baby dear. Squinched up face, cutest toes in the world (still are, and I still want to kiss ’em much to her chagrin “oh mommy I’m much too old for that,”) tiny long fingers and opinionated from …
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs; The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore? And yesterday–or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the hour of lead Remembered if outlived, As …
~Thoreau (right?) Somehow I always want to attribute this to the Die Blechtrommel. I march to a very different drum. Part of this has to do with my past. It wasn’t easy and that is a considerable understatement. I hope, in the near future to be able to work with …
