National Poetry Month: April 26

House of Incest (which, in the first printing was self-published. How she, in 1932, was WAY ahead of her time!) If you have not read this, do so now: Robert Vaughan reads Anais Nin’s prologue from House of Incest – YouTube Is there a book or a poem, or a passage from something that you carry through every move, through every transition? Do you love something in writing so much that you can’t find the words to describe how?]]>

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