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Rustling in the Wind: the Vocation of the Artist

Melissa Wiley has a beautiful post about about giving your creative self time to play: . . . fields everywhere invite you into them: Twyla Tharp would say: you must make a pledge to the third self. Promise her time on the throne. Mary Oliver says...

Afternoon Respite

Afternoon Respite July afternoons blaze gold and bright like the glow of her favorite gown. Not a breeze to break the baking heat in her dusty garden She retreats to the cool green bank of the sofa to dip her tired brain into the brisk stream of a...

The Echo

The rose-gold world resounds with end of day gladness. The sky stretched like a canvas waiting to be filled with calling birds winging home to their roosts. The grass’s green glimmers with gilt while sentinel trees have darkened their cloaks...

Ave Maria on the Lake

Ave Maria on the Lake A raft full of sheep is a strange sort of temple; yet this is where the morning bell finds them, golden notes carrying across golden water in the golden dawn. They bow their heads, and pray the familiar words, recalling how the...

Bonne Maman

    Bonne Maman In the dim room she has a light to read by. One foot rocks the cradle as she turns the pages of her book. The lamp burns more brightly than you’d think and she’s covered the cot with a blanket to block the lamp’s light and...

Journey into a Love Beyond Beauty

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me...

Top ten places to find the best contemporary art

Rapidiously provide access to covalent methods of empowerment rather than leading-edge functionalities. Phosfluorescently optimize market-driven convergence before customer directed web services. Collaboratively develop interactive e-services vis-a...

The fog comes

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
–Carl Sandburg

To Any Reader

To Any Reader by Robert Lewis Stevenson As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not...

Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines

by Pablo Neruda translated by W. S. Merwin Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, “The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.” The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write...

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