the mystery of childbirth, of childhood itself
grave visitations
what is it that calls to us?
why must we pray screaming?
why must not death be redefined?
we shut our eyes
we stretch out our arms
and whirl on a pane of glass
an afixiation
and whirl on a pane of glass
an afixiation
a fix on anything
the line of life
the limb of a tree
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women.
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women.
How can just a voice and guitar make such a big sound?
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