A Very Earnest Answer To The Man At the Library Who Read a Poem He Wrote Called, “Why […]
This, too?!we cry, in grief. This, too!!we chant belief. The clouds reply,erasing sky: Everything.Everything.This, too.
They think me boneless,I yield so easy.They think me skinless:I talk so white.They think me tender,home-grown prey.They think […]
“My difficulty is that I am writing to a rhythm and not to a plot.” – Virginia Woolf, letter to Ethel Smyth, 1930
Awhile ago, a friend of mine ran into a guy who told her he wanted a woman who made him feel like a man– and this poem happened after I thought way too much about that sentence, haha!
“Grief is the final act of love”
– Lauren London