Hearts are idiots. They‘re big and squishy and full of daft dreams. They flounce off to write poetry and moon at folk who aren‘t worth the mooning.
Autumn is the very soul of metamorphosis, a time when the world is poised at the door of winter--which is the door of Death--but has not yet fallen. It is a world of contradictions: a time of harvest and plenty, but also of cold and hardship. Here we dwell in the midst of life, but we know most keenly that all things must pass away and shrivel. Autumn turns the world from one thing into another.
This part particularly struck me. From the poem 'Female Comic Book Superheroes II: When Catholic Girls Strike Back'.
pickI've been wanting this sucker for years and it was worth the wait. The poetry was beautifully raw and tragic. I could read these over and over.
