A blind man’s fingers
Would trace a path
Across the knotted folds
Of knobbled flesh;
Linger over loss lines
Feel the weeping writ there
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A blind man’s fingers
Would trace a path
Across the knotted folds
Of knobbled flesh;
Linger over loss lines
Feel the weeping writ there
O! Most Excellent Exclamation!
and
My Sweet Semi-colon
There is a place I go
High on a cliff
(run time approx. 75 minutes) Synopsis: The Humming of My Blood takes as its premise the intriguing true story of the birth of Nicaraguan Sign Language. This language was invented and refined by successive waves of deaf Nicaraguan children in the 1980s, when the first...
The yellow-fingered dawn
takes me hand
as if to say
What a word
‘wistful’ is –
I lie in bed,
reach for the screen
It was a misty, moisty morning
When all the world was new
A story about what makes a home, and how little some places deserve that name. Excerpt: A magpie’s liquid song seeped into Mary’s head. It was a message of pure joy, lifted into the air, for any who cared to listen. Or, perhaps, it was sung for no one, for the...
A story about our interaction with the natural world, the importance of roots, and how every soul in this world needs a place of their own, however small. Excerpt: …Hannah held tightly to her father as if to a storm-tossed raft in a gale. He was warm and solid, his...
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