Monthly Archives: March 2011

A field of rats, a field of tulips

Fecundity is anathema only in the animal. “Acres and acres of rats” has a suitably chilling ring to it that is decidedly lacking if I say, instead, “acres and acres of tulips.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek Acres … Continue reading

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Song to the Young Son

Aonghus of the hidden birth Aonghus of the flowering tree Aonghus of the lovers doomed to meet in the darkness secretly Aonghus of the rising sap Aonghus of the green of May Aonghus of the soaring swan and the sound … Continue reading

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library-cleaning

Ah, spring cleaning. In¬†Always Coming Home, Ursula Le Guin’s narrator, Pandora, is horrified to discover that the Kesh clean out their libraries every few years. “You destroy valuable books,” she asks. “Oh yes,” the archivist replies. “Who wants to be … Continue reading

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Temperance

There is something infuriating about Temperance. A blank-faced angel pours water from one chalice into another, white-robed, with one foot on land and one in water. No passion lights his face or his golden hair. When I was a teen … Continue reading

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Medicine song

Misfortune waxes with the full moon, ever close. Day and night balance on a knife-edge. While I am spared this season’s violent turning, so many others are not. Friends, family with illnesses, medical disasters. Untimely deaths, killing waves, the Earth … Continue reading

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the dark side of womyn

I’ve been tangentially following the flap at Pantheacon concerning a women’s only ritual. Now, I’ve never gone to Pantheacon and certainly wasn’t at the ritual in question; my comments don’t really pertain to that situation in one way or another. … Continue reading

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