On our mind that must trickle out, four years ago this week we lost dear friend and poet, Stacy Doris. Rather than paralysis, we reach out to her cyberously, as she helped hatch the idea of doing a blog.
"in the spirit of elegies and sonnets for our friend who leaves a long one"
|where shadows come from|
|Death must be a call and response then|
|And how are you?|
|no one paints better than gravity|
|you imagined the labor of your thoughts fizzled and piffed into the universe - what were you holding on to anyway?|
|A lot of driving around her rectangles to get their heads cleaned and wiped.|
|All week, she practiced practicing Mindful Breathing, hoping fervently that the "data" please could be saved/ retrieved, relieved relived.|
PHEW! WHEW! yes - they- (it?) did it!!!
who should receive the thank you chocolate, honey, flowers?
Meanwhile, in the gym basement where the tragi-comedy of humanity lays itself bare, WHO KNEW? how little breathing we have actually been doing all this time. Good Heavens there are seemingly endless outcroppings of flesh and bone who would appreciate receiving more breaths of fresh air.
And a new awareness of all ball bearings housed in the body.
|First Daffodil already here: we prefer bulbs to Jesus|
Please do fill our new clean inbox with Art that has found you: FAF@homelandinspiration.org