strange questions

Jun/5 By

THE MOTH, THE MOUNTAINS, THE RIVERS by Mary Oliver Who can guess the luna’s sadness who lives so briefly? Who can guess the impatience of stone longing to be ground

go by yourself

Sep/26 By

The Poet With His Face in His Hands by Mary Oliver You want to cry aloud for your mistakes. But to tell the truth the world doesn’t need any more

not this, not that

May/9 By

  Not This, Not That by Mary Oliver Nor anything, not the eastern wind whose other name is rain, nor the burning heats of the dunes at the crown of

you have seen this a thousand times

Mar/14 By

Summer Morning by Mary Oliver Heart, I implore you, it’s time to come back from the dark, it’s morning, the hills are pink and the roses whatever they felt in