Sticks and stones
Build your words
When it falls
Bones may break
But the words
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood…”
Having an award winning poet as one’s mother is sensational. You grow up knowing a special secret: the world is wholly abstract, yet interconnected, and far more open to interpretation than most people realize. Life is a game of picking out signs and assigning them meaning.
My mother recently told me she had made up her mind about moving into a larger apartment. What clinched her “yes”?
Mars, Val Kilmer, and a car battery.
It’s a long story, and you’d have to have poet blood to understand any of it : )