Sweep the garden, any size, said the roshi. Sweeping, sweeping alone as the garden grows large or small. Any song sung working the garden brings up from sand gravel soil through straw bamboo wood and less tangible elements Power song… — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
She who loves roses must be patient and not cry out when she is pierced by thorns. — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
Sisterhood - that is, primary and bonding love from women - is, like motherhood, a capacity, not a destiny. It must be chosen, exercised… — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
Sweep the garden, any size, said the roshi. Sweeping, sweeping alone as the garden grows large or small. Any song sung working the garden… — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
When you died I didn't weep nor dream but knew you like a god breathe in each healing we begin. — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
I am a woman / who understands / the necessity of an impulse whose goal or origin / still lie beyond me. — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
Even when I cannot write, I know I am still a writer, just the way I know I am still sexual even if I… — Olga Broumas Copy Share Image
