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Haiku of Surrender (and a song)
My wrists and your fingertips.
Words measured with care
Splay me wide open. I’m yours.
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Living inside the braided folds just for today.Tangled roots whisper; I can’t hear what they say. Memories are a splinter in the eye.Promises broken become calcified naïveté. Black Swan, slippery like Mercury—haunting.(A life lived well is not a parley.) Water ceasing to hydrate what is crumbling.Silt becomes an urn for ashes someday. Days are shorter…
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i make pretty messes
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. …
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meandering along
I’m experimenting with offering up unscripted daily audio missives from my heart. Here’s day two: meandering along.
