Saturday, May 01, 2010


14 April 2010

I must have something to say.
Seems unlikely that the well has
dried up like the skin of my very pregnant abdomen.
But none of the images work. None of the words
come together like they used to, and I can't
force them to make sense to anyone but me.
I'm hungry.
Unpoetic, but necessary. Life continues
in it's very earthy vein: breathless, sleepless,
swollen and uncomfortable,
but amazing in a way that lacks art, though not beauty.
It is a truly lovely thing to carry your baby.
It's just not very poetic.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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