“I want
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”
― Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”
― Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
―
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
―
“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”
― Love: Ten Poems
― Love: Ten Poems
“The child's heart beat: but she was growing in the wrong place inside her extraordinary mother, south of safe...she and her mother were rushed to the hospital, where her mother was operated on by a brisk cheerful diminutive surgeon who told me after the surgery that my wife had been perhaps an hour from death from the pressure of the child growing outside the womb, the mother from the child growing, and the child from growing awry; and so my wife did not die, but our mysterious child did...Not uncommon, an ectopic pregnancy, said the surgeon...Sometimes, continued the surgeon, sometimes people who lose children before they are born continue to imagine the child who has died, and talk about her or him, it's such an utterly human thing to do, it helps deal with the pain, it's healthy within reason, and yes, people say to their other children that they actually do, in a sense, have a sister or brother, or did have a sister or brother, and she or he is elsewhere, has gone ahead, whatever the language of your belief or faith tradition. You could do that. People do that, yes. I have patients who do that, yes...
One summer morning, as I wandered by a river, I remembered an Irish word I learned long ago, and now whenever I think of the daughter I have to wait to meet, I find that word in my mouth: dunnog, little dark one, the shyest and quietest and tiniest of sparrows, the one you never see but sometimes you sense, a flash in the corner of your eye, a sweet sharp note already fading by the time it catches your ear.”
― The Wet Engine: Exploring Mad Wild Miracle of Heart
One summer morning, as I wandered by a river, I remembered an Irish word I learned long ago, and now whenever I think of the daughter I have to wait to meet, I find that word in my mouth: dunnog, little dark one, the shyest and quietest and tiniest of sparrows, the one you never see but sometimes you sense, a flash in the corner of your eye, a sweet sharp note already fading by the time it catches your ear.”
― The Wet Engine: Exploring Mad Wild Miracle of Heart
Lesbian Book Club
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— last activity Jan 31, 2026 06:54PM
Come and read with us. Here there are classics, non-fiction, fiction, and many more in LGBTQA+ literature. Find authors that you would have never read ...more
Bookwyrms
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— last activity Jun 09, 2024 04:41AM
For those who love those dragon books! Especially those featuring dragon povs or dragons as main characters. Check out our discord under group info!
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