two crows fly over
tree that is still holding on
to her summer skirt
May the fruits of summer keep you fed this winter, dear reader.
the rain comes in torrents ravaging the sky pressing hard into the earth aching, turgid clouds release as I drift off in the arms of the Beloved mind quiet heart peaceful body spent
Me to Gigi: “What do you see?” “A man about to step off a cliff.” “Do you think he’s in danger?” “No.” “Why not?” “I don’t know. I just think he’s going to be all right.” “Why do you think the eagle is there?” “To make sure he is all right.” Hmmm. Indeed. Note: The…
A few things I’ve noticed in my travels. You probably have too. Just here in Seattle listening to some trance music and pondering the past ten years. Jotting this down as a little cairn. 1. If someone can’t give you a bit of space in a relationship [read: they are terrified of being away from…
“Look at the beautiful, green buds!” she exclaimed. “I worry for them. It’s only February,” he replied. Now, it’s nearly April and the leaves are unfurling and stretching to the sun. He’s not here to see that and yet it’s happening all the same. Faith trumps worry.
steeped in paradox words and more words on paper my body just knows
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…