the little holding me together, light through blinds and leaves spun on the wind, beyond there is nothing left to be held together at all. the i is emptying.
how do i stop letting one false step unravel my progress?
there’s a robin on every phone line and all the birds are calling in, windows are opening. i am deciding if it hurts more to keep doing the same old things than to let go and see what new growth spring brings.
baby teeth fall out to make space for something bigger and better and stronger and we will weather whatever storms we find ourselves born into time and time again until the end and still the teeth will remain with marks of our domain and scars of our fate ever after we’ve forgotten our names
open instantly that spring-swell holds flows over in place gently lifts gently shown passages to dry air and ink lines each wear your works alone like time loosening strips open your bones for as long as you sleep breathe the too high too low
I don’t know. Which direction to go? “No answer,” has been My answer for a long run. An attempt At staying in the flow, At the mercy of The wind’s blow. Abdication of responsibility In my non-responsive state. Time to put my root down, Stand firm in all that I aim to create.
a need to be loved. ever moving toward balance in all things. all the temptations of incarnation in the flesh. my desires for honesty and openness. essentially, the essence of being a human. dark as in base impulses, inborn impulses, the kind of drives coiled deeply into soul while still gestating in the dark womb.Continue reading “dark impulses”
Is it every seven years your cells replace themselves & we are reborn? Numerology says the same more or less, plus or minus your birthday, or I forget… But for me it comes in mood swings or mania or existential depressions that span decades. I’ve been down for a while now but I feel thatContinue reading “Once or Twice”
All the smallbeautiful things I want to share with you in Old blankets And lived-in journal pages… // Good-night, dear- Good, isn’t it? How you just sort of… Fall in love – Don’t you?
humbly freed of thought, having walked in before. and god loves our questions, our psalms to be with kindness, our own death the meaning we’re living as authors for.