Robins wrench worms from the softening earth,
trilling songbirds pour their song into the wide sky,
Narcissus flirt with vibrant skirts
and a thousand shades of green dance in ardent winds.
Oh Spring!
Penetrate me with your turgid madness!
I surrender.
They say life is more beautiful when you’re in love. (and it’s true) I’m finding it is positively breathtaking as I learn to fall in love with myself. (sweetness there) Suddenly, gifts are given freely and received with grace. (so much grace) The reds and yellow of life jump out from the grey, lurking shadows…
Yesterday, I wrote a short story for fun based on some words my friends gave me. In response, I received this email from an acquaintance: There have been a very few Matriarchal societies and none that were much above Hunter/gather stage in development. This is not to say that Matriarchy stunts development at all but…
“It’s the every day moments of grace and despair, joy and sorrow that propel us towards our destiny. Life doesn’t have to be epic to have meaning and neither do stories. I prefer art that makes us ask deeper questions about ourselves or, at the very least, shows how fucking gorgeous and brave we are…
on my way to him a harbinger wind whipped ferociously the clouds shedding their tears. we spoke of poison and offerings of medicine losses and redemption poems and tears. tonight, my room is drenched in moonlight and I wrap the fabric of our time together around me like a cloak I want to wear more…
