It's like a schoolhouse of little words, thousands of words. First you figure out what each one means by itself, the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop full of moonlight. Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.

--Breakage, Mary Oliver

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  • Fickle
    August 16, 2013
    I think I'll be calling PB my new permanent home. My OD Plus account will soon end and I won't renew it. I considered cross-posting for a while, but I don't think I'm the type. Things don't always have to be so precise and calculated. I'm OK with existing differently in different places. I'm OK&h...
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  • Reader’s Choice: A Love Letter
    August 5, 2013
    I have been writing in Open Diary for over a dozen years. It seems as if everyone is "jumping ship," so to speak. I have mixed feelings. I can write anywhere, and often have, filling dozens of notebooks with trivial girlish notions, the heartache of first loves lost, and mediocre prose. I held a ...
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  • Reader’s Choice: I’m not lost, just wandering
    April 7, 2010
    Because I read too much, I have retreated into my own narration. I am waiting, simultaneously, to both write and read the upcoming chapter. Which means I find I am folding into myself this week. Sitting in silence. Not hearing, or caring. Things buzz on without me. The bees in the cautious crocus...
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  • Reader’s Choice: On writing
    February 17, 2010
    Sometimes it's hard to write in the shadow of this great place. Of which I mean here, this city, this shoreline--this flawless space that continuously makes me catch my breath at the sight of things so wild and so free. I'll forget. I call it home as if you can dig away at the ice…
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