Text from my journal:
Nightingale Woman
Birds fly into my face,
birds on my chest beating their wings,
birds trying to escape
my ribcage, from
beneath my dress.
poetry... mostly...
writer, editor, educator
"This world is but a canvas to our imagination"
Writing Lostness
A selfish poet
Stevenson's French culture blog. No shit.
author + reader
. . . a meeting place where poetry chapbooks are celebrated and reviewed
Poetry, nature, books, & speculative philosophical musings
pages from an unbound book
breathing through our bones
fixing blind spots w/ cards
"Tarot helps you meet whatever comes in the best possible way."
Thoughts on writing and reading
the view from my precarious perch
Bespoke.Like you.
Snapshots of the mindful life.
Ouch, that’s a grim representation of oneself, but artful.
LikeLike
Ibrahim, this sketch is not a self-portrait! I was doodling a picture of a bird stuck on a woman’s face. I had just been to an art exhibit with prints of women and birds, etchings by Kiki Smith.
🙂 Thanks for stopping by and making a comment.
LikeLike
Oh in that case i take the ouch back haha. Interesting art though.
LikeLike
Happy New Year. So happy to have met you here. I think we all carry a Nightingale Woman somewhere buried deep. Reminds me of the way I felt during parts of 2011. So happy to be moving forward. Here’s to 2012.
LikeLike