The Rabbit Hole

Well, I���m a bit late with today���s post because today was my birthday and I’ve been a bit distracted with celebrating turning 42 years young, but I haven���t gone to sleep for the night so I���m going to still post it as my day eleven poem.

I finally finished reading The Bell Jar tonight and it left me���wondering. It���s one of those books where you want to talk to the author, to just see for yourself. I have so many questions I want to ask. So, I guess I will be re-reading the book at a future date, to see if some of my nagging questions are resolved. Mostly I want to know more about her relationship with her mother and her relationship with her psychiatrist, Dr. Nolan. I had the sense, as I was reading, that a symptom or rather a feature of her mental illness was her inability to form meaningful relationships with people. She seemed so cold and detached from every person in the book except Dr. Nolan. That���s intriguing.

Also, my latest book is now available. Blues of a Love Junkie is available in paperback and Kindle. It���s a collection of poems that have been weaved together to tell the love story of a love junkie. Read a description of the book here: http://www.amazon.com/Blues-Love-Junkie-Rosalind-Guy/dp/0692416382/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428820313&sr=8-1&keywords=Blues+of+a+Love+Junkie

I also have two other books, Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood and Tattered Butterfly Wings. I���d love to get some reviewers or book groups to read TBW. If you know someone who might be interested, have them give me a shout.

Okay, so, here���s today���s poem. It is dedicated to the memory of Sylvia Plath.

The Rabbit Hole

Sometimes

I

wish the

rabbit hole

was

real. I���d

fall down

&

never

come back.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind