Nov 5, 2012-- ""I never could connect with poetry," Jan said. "I'm a math teacher!" She was sitting on my living room couch surrounded by piles of poetry books. On the coffee table was a stack of cards, each with a different poem on it. Even some of the art on the wall had hand-calligraphed verses among the colors....Jan's glance fell on a stack of Mary Oliver's books, and tears came to her eyes. "A few years ago, when I started teaching at my current job, the first friend I made was Rita, an English teacher and a poet. I confessed to her my inability to understand poetry. With a knowing look in her eye, she said, 'Don't worry, I'll take care of that!'" (8406 reads)
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Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.
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