Shadow Blossoms


Emily Dickinson

I dwell in possibility-

A fairer house than prose-

More numerous of windows-

Superior-for Doors-

Of Chambers as the Cedars-

Impregnable of Eye-

And for an Everlasting Roof-

The Gambrels of the Sky-

Of Visitors- the fairest-

For Occupation-This

The spreading wide my narrow Hands-

To gather Paradise-

-Emily Dickinson-


Strolling along the edge of the sea, a man catches sight of a young woman who appears to be engaged in a ritual dance. She stoops down, then straightens up to her full height, casting her arm out in an arc. Drawing closer, he sees that the beach around her is littered with starfish, and she is throwing them one by one into the sea. He lightly mocks her: “There are stranded starfish as far as the eye can see, for miles up the beach. What difference can saving a few of them possibly make?” Smiling, she bends down and once more tosses a starfish out over the water, saying serenely, “It certainly makes a difference to this one.”

william james

I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big successes. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillary oozing of water, yet which, if given time, will rend the hardest monuments of human pride.

-William James-


Up, lad:

thews that lie and cumber

Sunlit pallets never thrive;

Morns abed and daylight slumber

were not meant for man alive.

Clay lies still, but blood’s

a rover; Breath’s a ware

that will not keep. Up, lad:

when the journey’s over

There’ll be time enough to sleep.

-an excerpt from-


-A.E. Houseman-


And some time make the time to

drive out west

Into County Clare, along the

Flaggy Shore,

In September or October, when

the wind

And the light are working off

each other

So that the ocean on one side is


With foam and glitter, and inland

among stones

The surface of a slate-grey lake is


By the earthed lightening of a

flock of swans,

Their feathers roughed and

ruffling, white on white,

Their fully grown headstrong-

looking heads

Tucked or cresting or busy


Useless to think you’ll park and

capture it

More thoroughly. You are neither

here nor there,

A hurry through which known

and strange things pass

As big soft buffetings come at the

car sideways

And catch the heart off guard

and blow it open.


By: Seamus Heaney


So often has it been displayed to us, the


with its grains of sand drifting down,

not as an object in our world

but as a sign, a symbol, our lives

drifting down grain by grain,

sifting away - i’m sure everyone must

see this emblem somewhere in the mind.

Yet not only our lives drift down. The stuff

of ego with which we began, the mass

in the upper chamber, filters away

as love accumulates below. Now

I am almost entirely love. I have been

to the banker, the broker, those strange

people, to talk about unit trusts,

annuities, CDS, IRAS, trying 

to leave you whatever I can after

I die. I’ve made my will, written

you a long letter of instructions.

I think about this continually.

What will you do? How

will you live? You can’t go back

to cocktail waitressing in the casino.

And your poetry? It will bring you

at best a pittance in our civilization,

a widow’s mite, as mine has

for forty-five years. Which is why

I leave you so little. Brokers?

Unit trusts? I’m no financier doing

the world’s great business. And the sands

in the upper glass grow few. Can I leave

you the vale of ten thousand trillums

where we buried our good cat Pokey

across the lane to the quarry?

Maybe the tulips I planted under

the lilac tree? Or our red-bellied

woodpeckers who have given us so

much pleasure, and the rabbits

and the deer? And kisses. And 

love-makings? All our embracings?

I know millions of these will be still

unspent when the last grain of sand

falls with its whisper. Its inconsequence

on the mountain of my love below.

-Hayden Carruth-

thank u

How ‘bout getting off all these antibotics

How ‘bout stopping eating when I’m full up

How ‘bout them transparent dangling carrots

How ‘bout that ever elusive could’ve

Thank you India

Thank you terror

Thank you disillusionment

Thank you frailty

Thank you consequence 

Thank you thank you silence

How ‘bout not blaming you for everything

Hou ‘bout me enjoying the moment for once

How ‘bout how good it feels to finally forgive you

How ‘bout grieving it all one at a time

The moment I let go of it

was the moment I got more than I could handle

The moment I jumped off of it

was the moment I touched down

How ‘bout no longer being masochistic

How ‘bout remembering your divinity

How ‘bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out

How ‘bout not equating death with stopping

Thank you India

Thank you providence

Thank you disillusionment

Thank you nothingness

Thank you clarity

Thank you thank you silence

-Alanis Morissette-



"Swim as far as you can in your dream.

Away from:

your home

your mate

your children

your pets

your belongings

your work place

your colleagues.

See if you drown or survive”

-connection piece VI-


-Yoko Ono-