(Book Review) Lise Weil’s In Search of Pure Lust by Sara Wright
In this remarkable memoir one woman’s life is set in the collective context of the women’s movement as a whole, and through Lise’s eyes we get to see the “both Read More …
In this remarkable memoir one woman’s life is set in the collective context of the women’s movement as a whole, and through Lise’s eyes we get to see the “both Read More …
It sounds so appealing a time of revelry, crackling bonfires, staying up all night to witness the dawn. Why do we celebrate this longest day of the year as Read More …
Walking with Bb: a story exploring the psychic connection between one woman and her bear. Preface: The black bear – hunting season in Maine is brutal – four months of bear Read More …
She came on the wings of the Owl flew out of the crack of our imagining swooped low over the underground forest hooing, hooing, hooing screeching and clacking Haunting the Read More …
May is a month of dying into the flaming fire, the white heat of spring. You circle overhead as the Hawk does in my dreams… Broad russet wings and Read More …
This morning I went to our local blueberry festival and ate blueberry pancakes with blueberry sauce and started home with three quarts of blueberries, one of which was delivered to Read More …
Three long-necked sandhill cranes fly over the house. V shaped flocks of geese sound a collective cry. Woodpeckers drum. Magical dragons are stirring…. All who listen hear that the skies Read More …
Persephone’s Descent Persephone and perception may well be related. One definition of perception is that it is the ability to see, hear, or become aware of something like the elements Read More …
This morning the first email I read was written by a male friend of mine who reminded me that today, International Women’s day, was “my day.” How delightful to be Read More …
Lupita, your points of light glow in grave darkness. Hecate’s Moon was red. The raven sliced the sky into shards. The river caught shivering stars. We remember our Read More …
Her name is Datura. Delicate fluted deep-throated trumpets open to humming honey bees and summer rains. She communicates through scent. In the fall I collect her sharp-needled pods. They Read More …
First it was the magpie Black and White shivering iridescent feathers flashing in every conceivable hue – warning about extremes. Next the raven took up residence in the shining Read More …
A rose with thorns is still a rose. A wild rose. I gave up my rose, She was not good enough, pure enough, loving enough… Never Enough. A rose with Read More …