WPlongform

What I know About Being Giddy And Free

“Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”  RUMI Well Mom, certainly not every morning I dance around the apartment like a madman before work, but I was compelled by the funky sounds of one Alex Boye. He has a real funky […]

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A Witness To The Introvert In Full Sail

Me again. I do believe you are the proud Mother of a work spectacle. Yes, indeed. The side-ways glances, the smiles, the awkward silences. And I’m not imagining it. I was of course worried this morn about the aftermath of Monday, after my melt down. I had left early in a crying, bawling mess, and […]

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The Mystery Man and The Memories

So I’ve been wracking my noggin Mom all this week, trying to decipher who the mystery.texter is. I’ve asked various questions, not all of which have been answered, but from what have, piece by piece, I have whittled down the possibilities. I don’t know many people, so there is a limited crew of those who […]

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Why I Talk To The Dead

I recall the exact moment I knew Tim was ready to leave. I was ensconced in my acquired cubby-hole, that space I had carved out for my self after his death. I was listening to music and these series of songs played, one by one, and then and there I knew he was saying goodbye […]

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Single, Celibate and Satisfied?

This concept is something I’ve been wrestling with this week – being single and/or celibate, and what exactly does that entail? On the surface I suppose it’s rather straightforward, yet, am I thinking in terms of just abstinence for a bit? Or all out CELIBATE? Or, am I just choosing to be single, and celibacy […]

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An Ode to Lost Things

Bit by bit, life erodes these ideas one has. Dreams, goals, aspirations, all grand schemes are subject to moderation, and the changing climate of life. Today as the weather outside dips, and moisture freezes on the window panes, I find myself with little to say. I awake, and drink my coffee, smoke my cigs and […]

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A Poetic Vocation

“The poet is an anomaly in our culture. The goal of our culture is money and power. And that’s not exactly what poetry is about. What is it about? That’s a hard question. It’s about anything the human mind and unconscious can produce. And that’s infinite.” [Stanley Kunitz] And living life within the confines set […]

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Abandoned, But Not Forgotten

I’ve become very attached to these youngsters, called British Home Children. I never suspected there were so many in our township, but for the last few days I’ve discovered 16, and have been following the trail of two in particular. Here is a bit of their story. In late August of 1895 two boys, ages […]

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