The same wrong thing, again and again.
(What or who I can't yet say.)
(Image by JonathanCohen via Flickr.)
April 03, 2014 | Permalink
A gesture and an image from Authentic Movement, a dispatch from the body:
Time is a handful of snow, crystals
accumulating, not gathered, the palm
cupped and waiting,then the ripple of liquid
off the fingers.
Touched to the lips, time has no taste.
(Image by TierraLady, via Flickr)
April 01, 2014 in The process | Permalink
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