The soap opera journal of a poet who has set up household on the edge of Leona Canyon in Oakland, California where she creates meaning for herself from the vortex.
Friday, March 26, 2004
A Blossom Someone left a blossom on my windshield wiper.
A white blossom with pink spikes on the driver's side.
It had to be my love who recognized my car,
and placed it there for me to see after work.