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art

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Love letter: Dear truth

Dear truth, How ominous, This single tenet that greets the overwhelmed world. The minor chords that fade into a bitter sweetness. Look, there is so much more that can be said. We marvel at words, we sell them…as much as a word cannot be…

April 24, 2016
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Love letter: dear magic

Dear magic, There is a carpet I have which came from my grandfather’s house. It’s mostly red with green and orange flowers, and looks like a kind of relic from Victorian times. This kind of carpet used to be quite common but now it…

April 23, 2016
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Earth day 2016

Oh what an Earth Day this was. It’s miserable and dreary and raining, AND I got stuck at home while Ira the repairman fixed my oven. But I’m happy to report that everything is well and I can bake once more. It’s my usual…

April 22, 2016
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Love letters: Dear first love, hunger, and future me

Dear first love, hunger, and future me, I heard, That a breeze is caused by the differences in air pressure on some mountain peak a hundred miles away. In the soft evening breeze a raven flew by the cabin, swooped over the pond and…

April 13, 2016
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Love Letters: Dear Younger Me

Dear younger me, The things which I wish to say cannot be said, In part because it has been said, (and often), before, And we know this was as true the first as the second time I said it. It cannot become any truer…

April 8, 2016
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Love Letters: Dear Rest

Dear rest, It’s so peaceful here. It’s quiet and uncomplicated and serene. I love it. Rosy and fresh and cool. Like a good book. Like a song. A bowl of really sweet cherries. Yeah, that’s it. Cherries, like cherries. Postcard: Acrylic paint, shadow play,…

April 7, 2016
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Love letter: dear books

Dear books, We don’t all sing like typewriters. Some of us deliver a text which is pondered in the heart. I think there are silences louder than words. ……………………………………………….. Postcard: oil painting on the cover of a Victorian hymnal. sent…with a little extra postage.…

April 6, 2016
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Love letter: Dear morning

Dear morning, I don’t know how to explain it. You burn into my memory like a memory is supposed to: Six am waking up. Grandma bringing in a cup of hot tea. My skates on a towel in the corner of the room, waiting…

April 4, 2016
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Love letter: Dear feet

Dear feet, Watch your step. I think about that for you because I see you racing each other shouting, “me first, no me first!” And if feels odd to be here; like getting to this moment was suddenly upon me. It’s funny how life…

April 3, 2016
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Love letters: Dear Home

Dear Home I think people can pack a lot of stuff into a motor home. They just take everything out of the house and cram it into those spaces under the bed. The bed lifts up, and in goes all the stuff, and off…

April 2, 2016