I dreamed about a dead poets son who self annihilated I took an elevator that went to nowhere and stopped between floors. He was darkly handsome His smile comfortably intimate, as if this weren’t death we were living in as if his life had never happened. I becamelost in his studio, scattered with the detritus… Continue reading
Write or die?
Haven’t written in a long time. Feel like I’m being strangled by self doubt. Doesn’t help that i have a family who believes fighting is life. Reading Plath whose single-minded goal is something I envy. I dont have any goals other than surviving in a greedy society that traps the workers into a never ending… Continue reading
poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide