Tuesday, August 5, 2014


Sofia tells mama she's got red cracks in her eyes.

Lucia says she is grateful this morning for cold, for broken Easter eggs and for the new light.

I'm reading James Joyce Ulysses this morning. Every line sings.

I'm reading Hart Crane too. He says something beautifully resonant in every line too

Like, "Here at the water's edge the hands drop memory."

So why can't I come up with the right title?

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