Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A Dirge Without Music

Elegy For A Plum

She cannot be so dead.
She cannot be so dead
when she flickers with such glorious motion
here on the broad plains
of my heart.

by The Noisy Plume

Thoughts On The Death Of Thomas Plotkin

Each of us is a blend of dust and divinity. We each have the capacity to be heroic, and we are, each and every one of us, mortal. In a time when we are reminded of that, it’s not the answers to questions that will heal; it is community and family.

by Tori Murden McClure

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