In August the sounds of locusts are primroses or psychopomp, which do you dare~ In August I dream of the bay, cotton candy mute of clouds into shelf-wells of water walls gather and collecting the dream of themselves above or ahead, the just out of reach sky. If that is thunder, it cracks open the…
Tag: dreams
Myths and your story. Following your Bliss.
Seven years ago in 2010 before California, before north cubby holes and south green rooms and southwest desert sandstorms, I would stand on the deck waiting tables at the Yacht Club in Ocean Pines, wind blowing (like a million different Pusser’s winds, Naptown holllaaa wudup Chessie and back then) and it blew warm and westerly like Hawaii,…
Dream of back then
In Newport I sleep in Beth’s basement which is actually her garage, which has no electric and no heat. The sleeping bag is arctic and keeps me warm and the couch down there is the one I slept so well on the fall I came up from Humboldt for Thanksgiving. So I look forward to…
Wild Women Wisdom 