A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded
In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes, it lies there,
Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders…
. Why do we crave love so much, even to the point that we would die for it? To learn more about our very real, very physical need for romantic … Continue reading →
An excerpt from Elsa Gidlow’s autobiography: . . . that house on Redwood Road in Fairfax, Marin County, became mine by the Winter Solstice of 1940. I called it “Madrona”. … Continue reading →
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