Thursday, 29 April 2010
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Spider by Andrea Gibson
All of my pain is a spider I’ve learned not to crush with the heel of my shoe but to guide with a page of my journal into an empty glas...
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I am in the store touching things. Linen napkins, a blue bowl. The world is on fire and I am choosing between two kinds of soap. Everyone...
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That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands Worked ...
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To assume everything has meaning. To return at evening feeling you have earned a rest and put your feet up before a glowing t.v. set and fi...