She is the poem - June Bates
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what is your holy trinity of fruits
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There is supposed to be a place where no one can reach you. Traditionally, the home, but now we settle for the ocean, the airplane, the summit of a mountain, the middle of a lake, the shower, the womb, the grave
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a little bunny looking at the stars in case you're having a bad day.
˚ . ✧
✧. ★ ˚
★ ☄︎
˚ ✧ ˚
*. ⋆
༘ * 🔭🐇
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open me up...tell me you like it.. fuck me to death..LOVE ME UNTIIIIIL I LOOOVE MYSEEELF
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Louise Bourgeois (French-AMerican, 1911-2010)
Roof Song, 1947
Bronze
The Easton Foundation, Austria
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Rachel Mennies
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brb, filling my home with cottagecore tiles
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Teach the children. We don't matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones – inkberry, lamb's-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones – rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms. Attention is the beginning of devotion.
Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays
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