on rainy days the front porch transforms by the magic held in storms to a rocky shore and I, standing there with sea wind in my hair, like a giant in the tide without a boat to ride, set sail by foot in the mystic gale
It’s too cold today.Too cold to grindthe sleep from my eyesand rise.Outside,I see life suspendedin crystalized ice.Inside,I am swirled in a snowglobe,a tiny frozen breathcurling back to sleep.
I awoke on an island, a curious castaway, the quiet white sea spread before me.
Be so still that you finally notice the way the clouds once mistaken for still and sure rush across the sky by the hand of an unseen gale and perhaps consider why you too are always in a hurry
We want to believe that if we set our intentions to develop into the sort of people we need to see in the world, that life, or the universe, or whatever, will resonate with the precise tools and opportunities needed to do so, to facilitate the love and learning– this learning to be human– this connection we crave so badly in our beautiful little lives. And if you’d asked yourself six months […]
unfurl those arms and legs so wide they wrap around the whole world and gather it up– soft as crushed velvet and as easily as a lover.
There’s not an extra bone in their body that’s feeling something I don’t. They are just labeling their feelings differently.
Egg yolk mixed with pigment Life plus perspective, a tempera Birth curves of new skin on old walls Those which nourish set you free
Shifting shades of somber grays– an interlock of fractal lace– bend with snow to kiss my face Trees are most beautiful in winter
I don’t know how we’ll get where we’re going but it was so cosmically unlikely we’d get to today I think we’ll be alright.