A thinking woman sleeps with monsters.
The beak that grips her, she becomes.
And Nature, that sprung-lidded, still commodious
steamer-trunk of tempora and mores
gets stuffed with it all:
— Adrienne Rich
As much as I try to make the past keep still and
mind its manners, it moves and murmurs
with me through every day.”
— Deborah Levy
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Comments go to email for approval. I only check once a week. Thank you, Jane.