Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly
dash with your hair.
~Walt Whitman
Some friends shared their favorite words with me on Facebook so I decided to create a little short story with them. She looked at the beautiful faces around her and her heart was filled with warmth. This was indeed kismet and she felt more at home in her skin than she ever had. Loving, zaftig…
the scent of amber rose petals sprinkled on your chest and beyond heartsong offered with daily gifts of poetry or love stirred into two cups with one spoon once you sang to me and i quivered once
All of the paradox and contradictions. I always wished I could make pretty things. I wish I was a pretty thing. But what’s true is I am messy and complicated. I make more messes. I make pretty messes. I’ve been doing some inner calibration lately and ran across this journal entry from earlier this year. …
mad libs and laughter rain crashing against windows three girls warm and loved
invited in but always careening towards something (careless footsteps) skin throbbing from the sting (and not wanting to forget) the pulsating rhythm of blood rushing to the point of entry bathed in sunlight, the clenching stops while quiescent clouds gather rich, mellifluous enchantment moments and memories stitched together (everything in his house has a story)…
within the burgeoning spring the wind blows fiercely living things are wrenched apart