Tag Archives: Rilke’s rose epitaph

I wrote this post five years ago, while leaning on one of many pairs of crutches (the coolest among them, with built-in reflectors) I accrued as I quite literally fell to pieces as a half-decade younger widow.  Back then I … Continue reading →

  Earth-smoke and rue. Ashy gusts burst and thin and billow again, like those trick candles that can’t be blown out. Today is Jim’s birthday.  Our birthdays, in different years, fell only ten days apart, both feeding into holidays our … Continue reading →